Wounded
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: He coughed and groaned. "Mary…" His head felt fuzzy, and the burning in his back intensified. Gasping, he draped himself over her, effectively applying pressure to the wound in her shoulder. The world spun faster around him, and he closed his eyes...
1. Fallen

I'm excited to present my first full length In Plain Sight story! This comes after a marathon session of the first three seasons. It's set in its own universe, where Norah doesn't exist, but the events of Trojan Horst did happen (there are spoilers for this ep). I'm trying something new and outside of my element, so I'm a bit nervous. Before each chapter starts, there will be a clip of a song to sort of set the tone. For the first chapter, I chose Rob Thomas' song, Ever The Same. I think I've rambled on long enough. Enjoy, everybody!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPSIPS

_ Just let me hold you_

_ While you're falling apart_

_ Just let me hold you_

_ While we both fall down_

__-Rob Thomas, Ever The Same

* * *

Mary Shannon always hated attending funerals.

The first funeral she ever went to, she was seven years old. She remembered a lot of weeping and the pale face of the woman in the box at the front of the room. She didn't really remember Aunt Lydia, but her mother, always so dramatic, was almost hysterical. So Mary had focused on taking care of her baby sister, as she always did whenever she was concerned or things were out of her control. Even at the tender age of seven, she bore the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She was brought back to the present by a gentle nudge to her side.

Marshall Mann, her partner and best friend, removed his dark sunglasses so that she could see his crystal clear cerulean eyes. He disliked funerals almost as much as she did, especially when it was the funeral of a fellow marshal.

To her left, their boss, Stan McQueen, stood with a solemn expression on his face. His arms were at his sides, and the lines on his face were even more prominent. Marshal Cheryl Johnson had been killed in a drive by shooting, leaving behind a grief-stricken husband and three small children. At the moment, Matthew Johnson stood across from Stan and his marshals, not even bothering to hide the tears that rolled down his cheeks. His oldest son, eight year old Ryan, stood by his father, trying his best to be brave. The hearts of every marshal in attendance went out to them. It was always terrible when they buried one of their own, but when it was something like this, it made the blood of every marshal and former marshal boil. Whoever did this would pay, and they would likely pay with their own blood.

Mary touched her arm against her partner's without thinking. She was a strong woman and refused help from anyone. Anyone except Marshall. Through their years as partners, their relationship had evolved past a working one, past friendship. Somewhere along the way, through shootings, kidnappings, calls at three in the morning and even nightmares and sleepless nights, she had lost her ability to define just what they had. She would never admit it, but she needed him more than she had ever needed anyone in her life. She hated feeling dependent, vulnerable, any emotion that could be construed as a weakness. She hated it. But with him, it wasn't being weak. She could completely fall apart (not that she would ever let herself) and he would be right there, waiting with open arms and that patient, 'I'm here for you' smile. She loved him and hated him for it all at once. But more than anything, she loved him.

When Mary's arm came into contact with his, Marshall slipped his arm behind her and settled his large hand on the small of her back. He thrived on physical contact; he had his whole life. His mother claimed it was because he was born two months premature, and would only calm down with skin-to-skin contact. Even now, as an adult, he often sought contact when he was unsettled or uncertain. The first time he had done it with Mary, she had given him a look that he was certain meant she would hit him. But she hadn't, and when he did it again, she barely seemed to notice. Gradually he began doing it more often; while following her into a restaurant after holding a door open for her (she was no lady, but he was ever a gentleman), after he pulled her chair out for her (at the beginning, that had earned him some particularly evil looks). He even dared to do it when she was angry with him, and he suspected that the gesture had gotten him out of trouble with her more than once.

His thoughts came back to the present, and the casket that was being lowered into the ground before them. His heart hurt for the young family that Cheryl had unwillingly left behind. Once again, he couldn't help seeking out Mary and the assurance that her presence provided. God, what would he ever do without her? He refused to think about it. They both knew that this could have easily been one of them, that he could be burying her or she could be burying him. And the thought sent him reeling. He wasn't naïve. They weren't invincible. But the thought of lowering Mary into the ground, never seeing her face again, never hearing her call him Doofus in that annoyed yet affectionate way… His heart lurched painfully in his chest. He couldn't lose her. As much as she drove him crazy, mocked him, and generally made him want to pull his hair out, he cared about her. She was his best friend, his only friend. At least, the only friend he had that he would lay his life down for. He would walk through hell for her if she asked him to, and he would smile every step of the way.

Vaguely he heard Cheryl's mother sobbing, but something else caught his attention. Across from him, a man shifted uncomfortably, and at first Marshall chalked it up to grief. People did odd things when tragedy struck. People grieved in different ways. He knew that.

And yet, something felt off.

Mary felt his sudden restlessness, and she grazed his arm lightly with her fingers. But she didn't say a word.

Marshall glanced at his partner and offered her a brief, half-hearted smile that didn't quite touch his eyes.

On the other side of the freshly dug grave, the man shifted again.

Matthew reached down and grasped his young son's shoulder. He had known what he was getting into when he fell in love with a marshal, and he had known that there would always be the risk that one day she might not come home. But Cheryl loved her job, and once they were married, he never had the heart to ask her to give it up. It was as much a part of her as he was, and he didn't want to change her. Now he was a widower, and he had to find a way to go on without her, to raise their children, the only parts of her that he had left.

Suddenly something felt off to Marshall, and he couldn't help looking around the somber group that surrounded the grave. As a marshal, he had to trust his instincts. And right now, his instincts were screaming that something was very, very wrong.

Mary couldn't help noticing the way that Marshall suddenly stiffened, and she attributed it to him finally realizing their own vulnerability to harm. She had realized it long ago, the day he was shot while they transported a jackass witness who turned out to be the actual source of all the attacks. She had hid her concern for Marshall beneath a layer of aggression that bordered on rage directed toward that little weasel who had ultimately been responsible for Marshall's injury. She had protected him as best as she could, and when she had finally gotten him to safety, she had finally let a few tears fall. But they paled in comparison to the tears that came when she was finally allowed to see him. She had cajoled, begged, and eventually threatened the nurses until they finally let her into his I.C.U. room just after he was brought back from surgery. Stan had tried to reason with her, but that hadn't mattered to her. All that mattered at that moment was Marshall, and how small and fragile he looked in that hospital bed. It was in that moment that she had been cruelly reminded how very mortal they were. If Marshall could be hurt this badly, anyone could. She had spent that entire first night just watching over him and clinging to his hand like a lifeline, willing her strength into him. By the next morning, his doctors had been confident that he would make a full recovery. But he very easily could have slipped away as she held his hand. It could have been her standing over Marshall's grave, like Matthew now stood over his wife's. Her heart twisted violently in her chest at the thought.

_Breathe_…

Marshall felt it before he heard it, and all sense of protocol and training fled his mind when the gun went off and Mary cried out. Without hesitation he turned toward her, yanking her into his arms and turning her away from the source of the bullets. He vaguely heard the screams of other mourners, and his back burned. But none of that mattered as he pulled Mary to the ground and covered her body with his.

Bullets continued to fly. Marshall shielded Mary's head with his own. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. He heard Stan yell orders and call for a bus, but all he could think about was Mary.

_Oh, God, Mary_…

Easing himself off of her, he gently rolled her onto her back and searched for wounds. There was a single entry wound in her shoulder, and a bruise was forming on her temple, probably from when he had yanked her to the ground.

He coughed and groaned. "Mary…" His head felt fuzzy, and the burning in his back intensified. Gasping, he draped himself over her, effectively applying pressure to the wound in her shoulder. The world spun faster around him, and he closed his eyes.

The last thing he heard was Stan shouting his name, and then he knew no more.

To Be Continued...

A/N: *evil smile* Yes, I'm terrible. I finally write a multi-chap fic, and this is what happens. Blame the muse! Thanks for reading, and please review!


	2. To Fight And Defend

Wow, you guys are awesome! Normally I don't update so fast, but I thought I'd be nice today. Or evil. I'll let ya'll judge. Bwhahaha. This chapter's song is Avril Lavigne's Keep Holding On. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

_Before the doors close_

_And it comes to an end_

_With you by my side_

_I will fight and defend_

-Avril Lavigne, Keep Holding On

* * *

Stan McQueen heard the shots, but he couldn't tell where they were coming from. He reached for his gun, but was reluctant to fire into a group of civilians and other marshals. He heard Mary cry out, and he turned in time to see Marshall pull his partner to the ground. They were supposed to help civilians, but he had learned long ago with Mary and Marshall to never try to predict them. So he pushed himself through the crowd, shouting orders as he retrieved his gun. Luckily most of the people there had the sense to hit the ground, and by the time the shooting suddenly ceased, Stan was the only one left standing. He quickly pulled out his phone and called for backup. Then he called 911 and requested medical assistance.

Someone was crying as Stan put his phone away and made his way to his fallen marshals. Protocol demanded that he see to the civilians, but the off duty marshals could handle it. So he continued toward Mary and Marshall.

Mary's head pounded viciously as she came around again, and it only took a moment to remember what had happened. There was a heavy pressure on her chest, one that she vaguely recognized, and a pain in her shoulder that she didn't. Swearing softly, she slid out from under the pressure. Her vision was slightly blurred, but it only took a split-second for her to realize where the pressure was coming from.

"Marshall!"

His shirt was saturated with blood, and the smell permeated her senses. Without hesitation, she pulled her jacket off and draped it over his back. Another pair of hands joined her, forcing her to look up.

Stan met her eyes and tried his best to reassure her. "He's going to be okay, Mary."

Of course he was going to be okay! This was Marshall they were talking about. She scooted closer to Marshall's head and ran her blood-stained fingers through his damp hair. She had counted at least three entry wounds, and the blood that pooled beneath him screamed that one or more of those bullets had gone straight through him. His face was pale, too pale. Ignoring Stan, Mary leaned closer to Marshall and whispered into his ear.

"I need you to hang on for me, Marshall. Just hang on."

He didn't respond, but she didn't expect him to. All that mattered was that he knew she was there for him. As long as he lived, she would fight for him. Her free hand slipped into his and held on for dear life.

Stan finally heard the wail of an ambulance approaching, and he breathed a soft sigh of relief. Marshall's blood had soaked through Mary's jacket and was turning Stan's hands red. Mary was going to be furious with him once she realized what Marshall had done. Right now, she was in shock and dealing with her own blood loss. But she would realize it soon, and it wouldn't be pretty.

Mary put up a fight when medics suddenly swarmed them and tried to separate her from Marshall. Her own blood loss was making her weak, but she was running on adrenaline and fear for Marshall's life. She wouldn't allow them to take him from her.

Stan had to finally step in. "Mary…" He wrapped his arms around her and gently pulled her to her feet. "Come here… Let them work."

She stared, numb, as her jacket was pulled off of Marshall. His shirt was completely drenched in his blood, sending Mary's stomach into painful knots. The medical jargon was lost on her, but she did understand what a scoop and run meant. It meant that they didn't have time to stabilize him here, so they would have to get him into the ambulance and keep him alive until they got to the closest trauma center.

Just as she thought, a stretcher was produced, and Marshall was quickly placed on it. Reacting fast, Mary yanked herself away from Stan and followed the stretcher and its precious cargo.

Marshall was loaded into the back of the ambulance, but as Mary started to follow, one of the paramedics stopped her.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we don't have the room-"

"Try to stop me, and I'll take your goddamn arm off," Mary snarled. Even injured, she was a force to be reckoned with, and this idiot was trying to keep her from Marshall. She was downright dangerous now.

Stan quickly intervened. "She'll stay out of the way, but she's injured too, and this is the only way she'll get checked out." He was a smart man, and he knew just how stubborn his inspector was, especially when it came to her partner. She was much like a fierce lioness, and Marshall was her cub. She would draw the blood of anyone who dared to step between them. And he was absolutely right about Mary's injury. She would try to brush it off as just a graze and refuse to get medical attention for it. At least this way, a medic could look at her while the others tended to Marshall.

The medic looked exasperated. "Fine. Get in, but stay out of the way."

Mary cast Stan a grateful look and climbed into the back of the ambulance. She quickly found a place to sit by Marshall's head. The medics had placed him on his side so pressure could be applied to the wounds in his back and front. Blood had never made Mary squeamish; not her own, not anyone's. But the sight of Marshall's blood made her sick and furious. She was going to kill whoever had done this to him.

Without thinking, she leaned over and rested her head beside his. Her shoulder ached, but it barely registered in her mind. Marshall was hurt. His wounds were more grievous than any other time he had been shot, and there was a real chance that he would die.

The doors of the ambulance slammed shut, and one of the medics slammed his hand against the roof, signaling that they were ready to go.

Stan watched the ambulance doors slam shut, his bloody hands shaking slightly.

"Hang in there."

Mary couldn't help draping an arm over Marshall as the ambulance lurched forward. She had never been a touchy feely sort of person, but right then, all she wanted was to never have to let him go.

One of the medics placed an oxygen mask over Marshall's face while another cut his shirt away. Mary averted her eyes and focused on Marshall's pale features. Her arm tightened around him.

"He's lost a lot of blood."

Mary looked at the paramedic. She had heard a few names, but everything was so blurred together that she didn't know who he was, and he seemed to sense that.

"Name's Robbie. His name is Todd," Robbie said, nodding to the other paramedic.

Mary nodded briefly. "Mary. This is Marshall."

"Don't worry, Mary. We're going to take good care of him."

She nodded, but she wasn't reassured. Marshall was a fairly light sleeper, and he always roused easily for her. She couldn't get over the fact that he wasn't responding to her at all. She desperately needed something, anything. A flicker of the eyes, a twitch of a finger. Anything.

Robbie spoke again, telling Mary the name of the hospital that they were en route to. She knew it was a good hospital, but at the moment, all of her energy was focused on Marshall. Her hand slipped into his and held on tightly.

Halfway to the hospital, Marshall stopped breathing.

* * *

Stan arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes after the ambulance did. He burst into the entrance of the ER, loosening the tie around his neck. Before he even saw her, he heard Mary shouting. He followed the sound of her voice, flashing his badge at anyone who dared question his presence.

He found Mary in one of the treatment rooms. She had been stripped to her pants and a white tank top, which was saturated with blood. A doctor was attempting to pull the bullet out that had been lodged in her shoulder. Just as he was about to start yelling as well, he saw Mary's glassy eyes. At least they had given her some kind of anesthetic. But ever the stubborn pit bull that she was, Mary was fighting the drug that clouded her mind.

"I have to see my partner!"

Stan approached the bed, his expression soft and understanding. "Mary…"

Mary spun in the direction of his voice, further frustrating her doctor.

"Ma'am, hold still, please!"

Mary's expression was pleading. "Stan… Stan, I have to see Marshall."

This was not a side of Mary that Stan was accustomed to seeing. Mary was not a needy person, and for her to admit that she needed her partner… Well, it wasn't a surprise, because he knew that she did need him. But hearing the actual words was…unsettling. "Mary, settle down. Marshall's in surgery. You can't see him right now, so let the doctor work on your shoulder."

"But Stan…"

"No buts, Inspector." Stan looked at the doctor who was trying to retrieve the bullet. "Her partner was brought in with her. Marshall Mann."

"Sorry, but I don't know his condition." He let out a triumphant noise as he finally removed the bullet and dropped it into a metal tray. "I'm at the end of my shift, and we were able to determine that the bullet wasn't very deep. So we preferred to remove it here, instead of sending her into surgery." He began the tedious process of stitching the wound closed.

A strange, sad look crossed Stan's face. When Mary realized what Marshall had done to save her, he wasn't sure how she would react.

Mary looked at Stan helplessly. "Stan…Marshall…"

"Shh, Mary. Let the doctors take care of you. I'll find out how Marshall is."

That seemed to settle her down. "I still want to see him…"

"I know you do, kiddo. You'll see him as soon as possible."

She grunted softly, and Stan was relieved when she finally passed out. He nodded at her doctor and left the treatment area, determined to find out how Marshall was doing.

There was a nurse's station down the hall, and he gave the staff a charming smile. "Could I trouble you ladies for some information about my friend?"

The head nurse, Lucy, looked him over. He quickly produced his I.D., and she nodded. "Who is your friend?"

"Marshall Mann. He was brought in with several gunshot wounds."

Lucy tapped on her keyboard. "Mr. Mann is in surgery."

Stan tried not to look impatient. "Do you know anything else?"

"I'm sorry, sir."

Sighing, he nodded and walked away from the nurse's station, trusting them to find him when there was an update on Marshall's condition. Mary was listed as his next of kin, but with her incapacitated, that responsibility temporarily fell to him.

Finally he found himself outside, and his fingers trembled as he reached for his phone and started dialing. The person on the other end answered after the third ring.

"Mr. Mann? This is Stan McQueen. There was a shooting…"

* * *

Thousands of miles away, Seth Mann's hand trembled as he lowered his phone to his side. His youngest son's boss had just called with news that Marshall had been shot. He had known for years that this could happen, and it wasn't the first time. Marshall was a fifth generation marshal, and Seth, though he would never say it, was so very proud of his youngest son.

Trembling slightly, Seth called out to his wife. They could be in New Mexico in just a few hours, if they could catch a plane right then.

But above anything, he wanted his boy to be okay.

* * *

Stan finally walked back into the hospital a half hour later. He was informed that Mary had been transferred to a private room upstairs, and that she would be released the next day. He almost laughed at that. He knew his people better than anyone else. As soon as Mary was conscious, she would be at Marshall's side once he was out of surgery. There would be no convincing her otherwise.

He easily found Mary's room and eased inside. Mary was asleep in the bed, her arm in a sling and her brow furrowed even as she slept. She often carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, and right now, Marshall was her world. He knew that much.

Grabbing an uncomfortable chair, he sat down by her bed and made himself as comfortable as he possibly could.

"You two are going to kill me."

The only response he got was a gentle sigh from Mary as she slept, but that was enough for now.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Don't worry, ass kicking Mary is coming very soon. And we'll see some gentle Mary, too. Thanks for reading, and please review!


	3. Twisted

Let me just take a second to thank you all for the awesome reviews! **Autumn Rayne, Abby and Liv Snigglebottom, jekkah, Whyte Board Maker, JMS529, JJ2008**, and **BrittanyLS**, ya'll are all terrific! Loving the feedback! The song I used for this chapter is Good Charlotte's Hold On. It's a bit of a nail biter, so read on and enjoy!

Oh, and in case I forgot to mention, I am a HUGE shipper. And totally in love with Fred Weller (he wished me happy birthday this week on twitter. :D) So there will be romance. Now whether or not Marshall will survive is still a question... Bwhahahahaha.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

_Don't stop looking_

_You're one step closer_

_Don't stop searching_

_It's not over_

-Good Charlotte, Hold On.

* * *

Stan awoke suddenly, his heart pounding and his mouth dry. As the memories of the morning's events poured over him, he looked around the hospital room, fully expecting to see Mary in her bed. Only she wasn't, and he groaned.

"Mary…"

Lurching to his feet, Stan looked at his watch. Eight p.m., roughly nine hours since the funeral that had ended in a hail of gunfire. He scrubbed at his face and glanced around. Mary's bloody clothes were gone as well. He turned around and hustled out of the room, fully expecting to find her down the hall.

He was right. In the waiting room closest to the O.R., he found Mary slumped over on a lumpy couch. Her face was pale and her hair was uncombed, but there was a fierce look in her eyes.

As soon as she saw him, she frowned. "I'm not leaving, Stan."

He sighed. "You should be in your room."

"Screw that." She motioned to her arm. "Barely a scratch. I'm not leaving until I can see Marshall."

Stan moved closer to her, one hand out. "Mary…"

"He stopped breathing, Stan!" she yelled, her proud shoulders slumping. "In the ambulance…he stopped breathing. I… I lost him…"

"Mary, honey…" Sitting down beside her, Stan reached out and wrapped his arm around her in an unusual display of fatherly affection. "It's Marshall. He's going to be fine."

"Four times." She finally looked at her boss. "He was shot four times, Stan. He's been in surgery for almost nine hours. And… it's my fault."

He swallowed hard. He'd known this was coming; Mary always felt responsible for Marshall, just as he felt responsible for her. She wasn't going to handle this well at all, knowing that he had taken those bullets to save her life.

Slumping back against the uncomfortable couch, Mary curled into herself. She needed Marshall with her to explain what was going on, why she was feeling this way. But more than anything, she needed to know he was going to be okay.

The door to the waiting room opened again, and Mary's heart sank at the sight of Marshall's family. His parents looked exhausted, and his brothers looked worried. Without thinking, she got to her feet. She had only ever met Seth, but she knew that Marshall adored his mother, and already Mary respected her. After all, she had given birth to Marshall.

Seth stepped toward her. "Mary. How is he?" He shook her hand, then Stan's.

"Still in surgery," Mary murmured.

Anna Mann walked around her husband and wrapped Mary in a hug. Marshall spoke so highly and often of her, she felt like she already knew the woman who had her son's back every day. She had come from a long line of law enforcement, and she had married a marshal. Her two older sons were also marshals, and she knew the importance of partners.

Mary initially tensed, but forced herself to relax. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Mann…"

"Mary, please. Call me Anna." The older woman pulled back and gently touched Mary's face. "I feel like I've known you for years."

The slightest of smiles touched Mary's mouth as Anna stepped back. She looked at Marshall's brothers. All three bore a striking resemblance, but the older two somehow looked harder, rougher. Marshall was far more gentle.

Anna noticed Mary's expression, and she motioned to her eldest sons. "Mary, these are Marshall's brothers, Christopher and Michael."

Michael, patron saint of cops, and Christopher, bearer of Christ. No wonder Marshall felt he had so much to live up to. Mary rubbed the back of her neck, but any response was cut off by the sudden appearance of a weary doctor in blue scrubs. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Family of Marshall Mann?"

Seth spoke up, his voice gravelly but demanding of respect. "That's us."

Mary felt Stan's hand on her arm as the doctor spoke, and her head spun. All she heard was I.C.U., possible infection, bullet fragmentation… The doctor's voice faded in and out, replaced by the sound of her own heart beating. Her eyes closed, and when she opened them again, Marshall's family was gone. She looked around, panicked.

Stan was still with her. "They went in to see Marshall," he explained at the look on her face.

"I have to see him."

"Mary…"

Without waiting, she left the enclosed space and headed down the hall. But before she reached the Intensive Care Unit, she found herself stumbling into the nearest bathroom and locking herself in a stall. She held back her hair as she hunched over the toilet and lost what little food was in her stomach.

She lost track of how long she was in there, but once she was finished, she staggered to the sink and splashed cold water onto her face. God, she looked like shit. She dried her face and hands, then continued toward the I.C.U.

By the time she got there, Marshall's family was huddled in the hall, speaking quietly with a nurse. Sucking in a breath, she went around them and reached for the handle of Marshall's door.

"Excuse me, Miss-"

Growling, Mary shoved her badge into the nurse's face. Then she walked into Marshall's room, not completely sure of what she would find, but knowing that she had to see her partner.

The first thing that hit her was the strong smell of antiseptic soap. There was a mixture of beeps and hisses that came from the machines surrounding the single bed in the room, and in the middle of it all was Marshall.

Her feet suddenly carried her forward, until she was standing directly beside him. He was lying on his back, but numerous pillows had been positioned beneath him to keep him comfortable. Mary hoped, for the medical staff's own sakes, that they were giving him enough morphine that he couldn't feel any of his injuries, or they would have to deal with her. A ventilator was breathing for him, and numerous tubes and wires ran in and out of his fragile body.

Fragile. That was one word she never would have used to describe Marshall. He was annoying, silly, brilliant, charming…but not fragile. He was Marshall.

Rage suddenly swelled up within her all over again. Whoever did this was going to pay with their blood. She would make sure of that.

"Marshall, you have to wake up," she whispered, slowly reaching up and ignoring the painful protest her injured shoulder gave her. Her fingers fumbled, but finally she removed the necklace she was wearing. Marshall had given it to her about six months after they became partners. She supposed it was when he realized that they were going to make it. She held up the medal and smiled. St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. It had been the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her, and she had responded with a pencil to his head. She smiled softly as she ran her thumb over the medal.

"Okay, Doofus. I'll make you a deal." Her voice dropped as she picked up his hand and tucked the medal into it. Then she gently closed his fingers around the necklace. "You focus on getting better, and I'll take out the son of a bitch who did this."

As she suspected, there was no response. And as much as she wanted to stay with him, she had a job to do. She had to hunt down and rip apart the mangy dog who had put her best friend in the hospital.

"I'll be back soon, Marshall. Promise." Knowing he would never remember it, she leaned over and kissed his forehead softly, brushing his damp hair away from his eyes. Then she turned around and left the I.C.U. room, her mouth set in a grim line of determination.

She had work to do.

* * *

Anna watched as Mary hurried out of Marshall's room, and she called out to her. But Mary didn't turn, or give any indication that she had heard.

Seth came up behind his wife and gently touched her arm. "Anna, why don't you go back in and sit with Marshall? I'll go get you something to eat."

She nodded, absently kissing her husband's cheek before she went into her youngest son's hospital room. The shock of seeing Marshall like that had quickly worn off. She had to be strong for her boy. He needed her to.

Sitting down beside Marshall's bed, she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. "Hi, sweetheart," she whispered, watching his pale face. "I'm back. Your dad and your brothers are in the hall." She touched his cheek with her free hand. "Everything is going to be okay, Marshall."

The machinery in the room was unsettling to listen to, but she focused on the fact that they were helping her son stay alive. He needed them, so she couldn't resent them.

"I finally met your partner, Mary. You're right, she's a handful. But… she cares about you, Marshall. I could see it written all over her face." Her fingers caressed her son's temple. "She was a little rough, but she's worried about you. We all are."

His chest rose and fell in sync with the ventilator, and numbers lit up on screens.

Anna sighed.

"Stay with us, baby boy. Please."

* * *

Mary went straight back to the waiting room, where Stan was still standing and quietly speaking on his cell. As soon as he saw Mary, he closed the phone and put it away.

"How's he doing?"

"Not good, Stan." Mary picked up her abandoned jacket and pulled it on.

He watched her, worried. "Mary, where are you going?" He was right in assuming that she would never stay as a patient, but he didn't see her abandoning Marshall while he was in the I.C.U. and fighting for his life. Then again, he had learned long ago never to try and predict Mary.

"Out. Call me if Marshall's condition changes at all."

"Mary…"

She shoved a finger in his direction, her eyes aflame. "I have something that I have to take care of. Call me if anything happens with _my partner_," she growled, and Stan couldn't help noting the emphasis she put on those last two words.

They stared at each other for several moments before Mary finally stormed out of the waiting room.

"Be careful, Mary."

* * *

Since her car was still at the burial site, Mary flagged down a cab and directed the driver to the cemetery where the shooting had occurred. It was dark, and she shoved a wad of cash at the driver before she got out of the cab.

The area was cordoned off. Already she was running through a list in her mind of people who could have done this. She remembered almost everything now, and she had taken one bullet before Marshall got her out of the way, taking four bullets in the process. Four bullets that certainly would have killed her.

A tremor went through her shoulders. _Damn you, Marshall_… She swiped a shaky hand over her face before forcing herself to calm down. The shooter must have been aiming for her before Marshall put himself in the crossfire. Whoever did this wanted to take her out, and the list of potential suspects was endless.

Through the darkness, she could see the blood that stained the ground where they had stood. Marshall's blood… Her rage came rushing back again, and she swore. Suddenly unable to stand there any longer, she fled to her car and yanked the door open. Sliding into the driver's seat, she shoved the keys into the ignition and the engine roared to life.

Whoever did this was going to die.

* * *

By the time the sun was finally rising over the Albuquerque skyline, Mary was sitting at her desk, poring over a list of people she had put away, people who had threatened her, and a few who felt she had somehow wronged them. It was a long list, but she refused to rule anyone out until she checked alibis and whereabouts.

Just after ten, Stan walked in with two cups of coffee and a bag of donuts. He had fully expected to find Mary sitting at her desk, and he was right. He placed the bag and one of the coffees on Mary's desk. When she gave him a strange look, his expression became firm. "Eat, Mary."

Sighing, Mary opened the bag, retrieved a donut, and took an obligatory bite.

Nodding, Stan took a sip of his own coffee. "Have you found anything yet?"

"No. How is Marshall?" She knew he would have waited at the hospital.

Stan swallowed hard, the coffee suddenly bitter. "Not good, Mary. You should be at the hospital with him."

She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "His family is with him."

"Is that what this is? You think that because they're there, there's no room for you? Mary, he's your partner. No one is going to keep him from you."

Mary suddenly slammed her hands down on her desk, startling her boss. "I have to find this piss ant, Stan. And when I do, I'm going to rip his limbs off and watch him squirm." Not because he had hurt her, but because he had hurt her Marshall.

"Mary…"

"Save it, Stan. I have work to do." And with that, she grabbed a few files and stormed out of the room.

Unable to do anything but watch her go, Stan sighed.

This was not going to end well.

* * *

Mary spent the rest of the day busting down doors and making threats, but she gained no headway except being able to cross a few names off of her list. She wanted to go back to the hospital and check on Marshall, but the need to catch whoever put him in the hospital pressed heavily on her. So she continued to push herself harder and harder, as she always did.

Around midnight, she finally stumbled home for a shower and a little sleep, and by six a.m., she was back on the streets. She was going to find out who did this.

* * *

After talking to yet another dead end, Mary headed back to her car. Her phone suddenly vibrated against her hip, and she grabbed it. "Yeah?"

"Mary."

Stan sounded out of breath and frightened, and Mary's gut clenched.

"Stan? What's wrong?"

"There's been another shooting."

Her stomach dropped. "What?"

"Yeah. This time at a crime scene."

Crime scene…open area…swarming with cops… Shit. "What happened?"

"Five officers were hit. Two died at the scene, and another one barely made it to the hospital. The other two are going to be okay."

Mary leaned against her car and closed her eyes briefly. This wasn't an isolated incident. This was now a spree, and with the deaths of two officers, this rat was a cop killer. "Did anyone see him?"

"No. No one got a clear view."

"Shit." Mary scrubbed her hand over her face. "I'll be there in fifteen."

"Mary, maybe you should go to the hospital instead."

Her stomach dropped even further. Marshall…

"His parents called me just before the shooting. The doctors aren't sure he's going to make it."

"You don't know him, Stan." With that, she closed her phone and got into her car. But before she started the engine, she rested her head briefly against the steering wheel and closed her eyes.

_Don't give up yet, Marshall_.

* * *

Stan was at the site of the shooting when Mary pulled up, and he wondered how she knew where to go. More importantly, he wanted to know why she wasn't at the hospital. Marshall's parents had taken up a vigil with their wounded son, but he knew they would never refuse Mary access to her partner. Marshall came from a long line of law enforcement, and the word partner had extremely strong connotations for the Mann family.

Practically leaping out of her car, Mary stormed over to Stan. "What's the story?"

"Mary…"

"Just tell me, Stan."

Sighing, Stan motioned to a nearby building, where the shots were thought to have originated. "We think the shooter was there." He shifted and pointed to a body bag. "That was the vic. Rita Owen. She was found a couple of hours ago, gutted."

"Jesus…"

"The scene was being investigated when the mutt opened fire. Officer John Reese was killed instantly when one of the bullets struck his head. His partner, Lisa Franklin, tried to help, and she was hit in the back."

Mary's blood boiled as she imagined the scene. She saw Reese getting hit. Franklin probably knew he was gone, but she had risked her life anyway because there was a one in a million chance he was still alive, and that's what partners did. They put it all on the line for each other, every single day. Mary would have done the same exact thing for Marshall. She would do anything for him, anything in the entire world. She teased him mercilessly and purposefully made him crazy, but if anyone else tried it, she would tear their heads off, and do it with a smile.

"Mary."

Mary finally looked at Stan, her expression unreadable. "Yeah?"

"I said, there are some cameras around here. C.S.U. is going over the tapes on the off chance that our shooter is on one of them."

That was all he had to say, and Mary was gone again.

* * *

Much to Mary's chagrin, the shooter wasn't on the tapes. She swore repeatedly as she got into her car and slammed the door shut. No one could ever accuse her of being a patient woman, and several techs who were going over the tapes received the brunt of her aggression.

Pulling onto the highway, she pointed her car in the direction of the hospital where Marshall was. She needed a break and to see him, before she actually did hurt someone. Marshall was the only person she knew who could handle her at her worst, and now was no exception. Just the thought of him was causing her anger to ebb. She let out a slow breath, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she drove back to the hospital.

Within fifteen minutes, Mary was back at the hospital and on her way up to the I.C.U. She stopped for no one; her badge was visible on her hip and she knew that this hospital was known for bending rules for law enforcement. Finally she reached Marshall's room, and she was concerned when she saw his mother and father standing outside.

Anna saw Mary first. "Mary, honey, you're here."

Mary nodded. "What's going on?"

"They're taking him back into surgery. He started bleeding again," Seth explained, and Mary sucked in a hard breath. But before she could form a coherent reply, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket.

She issued Marshall's parents an apologetic look and turned away, answering the phone. "Yeah?"

"Mary? It's Vivian."

Vivian Callahan was one of Mary's more difficult witnesses. She followed most of the rules, but she had a way of pushing Mary's buttons to get what she wanted. Mary groaned internally. She didn't have the time for this.

"What is it, Viv? I'm busy." Normally she never would have said that to a witness, but right now Marshall needed her, and she couldn't handle a frustrating witness on top of that.

"I know. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can we meet?"

"Vivian, I don't have time for this. What is it?"

"Those shootings? I have information about them."

Mary closed her eyes briefly. "Stay at your place. I'll be there in ten." She closed the phone, then gave Marshall's parents an apologetic look.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to go."

Seth had a knowing look on his face. "You know something, don't you?"

"Maybe." She took a step back. "Tell Marshall I'll be back, okay?"

Anna nodded. "We will."

With that assurance, Mary turned around and left the hospital, breaking every speed limit on her way to Vivian's apartment.

* * *

A harsh chuckle reverberated in the dark motel room. Smoke hung thick in the air, and an ashtray on a nearby table was already filled.

Dominic turned on the T.V. and found a news channel, then turned up the volume.

"…two officers were killed in the attack, one more was grievously wounded…"

He laughed again, pressing his shot glass to his mouth. In front of him was a thick file, and clipped to the front of the file was a picture of Mary Shannon.

Emptying the glass, he set it on top of the file. Then he ran his finger lecherously over the picture.

"I'll be seeing you again real soon, Mary. Promise."

To Be Continued...

A/N: Once again, thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far! I'm glad that my first multi-chap fic is being so well-received. I finally figured out how to include the lyrics without smushing them into the story at the beginning, so I'm pleased. LOL. Thanks again, everyone, and please feel free to toss out any ideas or suggestions!


	4. On The Brink

Finally feel like I'm getting ahead of this story! I have another chapter ready to post after this, and the sixth chapter is being banged out right now. It's funny, because usually I post a chapter and it takes me weeks to post another. I've wanted to put a bit of distance between posting this chapter and the last, but I'm just having so much fun with this story! So read on and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

_I'd walk across this world just to be_

_Close to you, cause I want you close to me_

-Faith Hill, Just To Hear You Say That You Love Me

* * *

Mary made it to Vivian's apartment in under ten minutes, a record even for her. She barely remembered to turn the engine off before she got out of the car and raced into the building. Vivian was on the second floor of a relatively nice apartment complex, courtesy of the job Mary had helped her get. Reaching Vivian's apartment, she reached out and slammed her hand against the door.

Vivian opened the door a few moments later. "You're here."

"Of course I am." She shoved her way into Vivian's apartment. "What do you know about the shootings?"

Vivian closed the door and locked it. "Not a lot."

"I swear to God, Vivian, if you are yanking my chain…"

She didn't miss the dangerous look on Mary's face, and she quickly interrupted the angry blond. "I'm not, Mary. Honest." She crossed her arms over her chest protectively. "I think someone is following me."

"What? Who?"

"My old boyfriend."

Mary scowled. Vivian could be difficult, but her ex-boyfriend was trouble. With a gambling problem and God only knew what else, Mary had tried to discourage Vivian early on from seeing him. But having stars in her eyes and sweet nothings whispered into her ear, she had refused. It was only when the loser hit her that Vivian finally came to her senses and left him. She had stayed in a hotel for a few days until Mary decided it was safe enough for Vivian to return home.

"I've been getting weird calls, and when I was out grocery shopping the other day, I swear I saw his old truck."

"What does that have to do with the shootings, Vivian?"

"He was crazy in love with me, and you made me see the light about him."

Mary's eyes darkened ever so slightly. "No. He's not that stupid."

"Maybe, but I think he would go pretty far to try to get me back." Vivian uncrossed her arms. "He might even try to hurt you or your partner."

Swearing, Mary pulled out her phone and dialed Stan's number. Even if Vivian was dead wrong, she wasn't going to gamble with Marshall's life.

Stan's weary voice came on the line after three rings. "What's up, Mary?"

"I can't go into detail right now, Stan, but I want a 24 hour protective detail put on Marshall, right now. No one goes into that room except his family and us."

He didn't argue with her. "Got it."

"Thanks, Stan." Slightly relieved, she ended the call and slid her phone back into her pocket. Then she returned her attention to Vivian.

"I heard about your partner. I'm sorry about that," Vivian offered.

"He's going to be fine," Mary insisted with a wave of her hand. "But whoever did this won't be."

Vivian gave her a questioning look.

"This hump opened fire on a cop's funeral. The first bullet hit me, and four more would have, too. But my partner… Marshall grabbed me and took the bullets himself." Mary absently rubbed the tender area that was starting to ache.

Vivian ran her hands through her hair. "I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as your rat ex is going to be if he did this," Mary assured her.

Not nearly as sorry.

* * *

Mary spent Wednesday and Thursday searching for Vivian's ex, to no avail. He wasn't using credit cards, and she was ready to kick in the doors of every sleazebag hotel within a one hundred mile radius.

During the day, she stayed on the road and tried not to let the memories of Marshall in a hospital bed overwhelm her thoughts. At night, she spoke with his mother, and it was always the same. Marshall wasn't improving, but he wasn't getting any worse, either. Mary didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. Normally, Marshall would have been the one to explain it to her, but he wasn't there.

Stan kept two officers outside of Marshall's room at all times, and he was there himself whenever he could manage it. What concerned him was that Mary wasn't there. When Marshall had been shot during a witness transport, Mary had kept him as safe as she could and gotten him to safety before she went after her witness again. Then she went to the hospital and stayed there until Marshall was released almost a week later. She was possessive and protective of him, and Stan had a very bad feeling about all of this.

Friday afternoon, Anna was sitting by her son's bed, reading aloud to him from one of his favorite novels, Moby Dick. She was halfway through the book when one of the monitors by Marshall's bed suddenly went off. Dropping the book, she hurried to her son's side.

"Nurse! I need help in here!"

* * *

Stan reached the hospital in record time after he received Seth's call. All he knew was that Marshall was not well, and Mary wasn't answering her phone. He tried one more time after parking, and when she didn't answer, he went into the hospital and up to the I.C.U.

Seth was holding Anna when Stan approached, and Stan's face fell.

"Is he…?"

Seth shook his head. "No, he's still hanging on, but his doctor thinks he's giving up. He's just not fighting like he should be, and they can't figure out why."

Sudden understanding dawned in Stan's eyes. Why hadn't he thought of it before? As far as he knew, Mary had only been in the room once, and for all he knew, she didn't say a word. How stupid he had been for not realizing it sooner!

Anna saw his expression change. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "I'm going to get his partner in here."

Christopher had been standing close enough to hear the conversation, and he frowned. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I have no idea, but it's the only thing we haven't tried." He pulled his phone out again. "I'm going to get her in here if I have to have Highway Patrol pick her up." Walking away from the group, he dialed Mary's number again.

Mary was just walking to her car when her phone went off again. Sighing, she retrieved it and held it up to her ear. "What is it, Stan?"

"You need to get to the hospital. Now."

"What? What's going on, Stan?" Panic crept into her when all she heard was silence on the other end. She called Stan's name again, but he didn't answer. Swearing, she jumped into her car and flew back to the hospital, silently saying Marshall's name over and over again like a mantra.

When she finally reached the hospital, she practically ran to the I.C.U. She had no idea what she would find, but she had to see Marshall.

Stan saw her first, and he caught her elbow as she raced past him. "Mary!"

Mary spun around, her eyes burning. "What? Is he okay?"

"He's hanging on right now, Mary. He had a scare earlier, but he's starting to settle down."

She let out a soft breath, but her panic didn't abate.

"Mary, how many times have you actually been in there?"

"What?"

"Answer me, Inspector. How many times have you been in Marshall's room?"

Mary looked away for a moment. "Once. Right after his first surgery."

Pieces were falling into place, and it was just as Stan had thought. "Mary, his doctors say he's not fighting, not like he should. He's letting the machine breathe for him. He's not doing any of the work."

"He's weak right now, Stan-"

"I don't think that's it." He squeezed her elbow slightly. "Mary, the last time he saw you, you had been shot. For all he knows, you died at the funeral service."

Mary froze completely. _Oh, Marshall_..

"He doesn't respond to his family or me. I think he believes you're dead, and he's giving up."

"Why? Why would he do that? He has too much to live for!"

"Then go in there and tell him that! Tell him anything! Just… go in there and sit with him." Stan stared at his inspector, the woman he viewed as a daughter. Marshall and Mary were closer than any other partners he had ever seen in his career. If Marshall didn't respond to her, he had no idea what he would respond to. They had to at least try.

For once, Mary had no snide comeback, no sneer or demeaning words. She simply nodded, exchanging a look with Stan before she ducked into Marshall's room.

Anna approached Stan as the door closed. "Do you think she can help my boy?"

"I truly hope so, Anna." If Mary couldn't help Marshall, then no one else could.

Mary closed the door behind herself and approached Marshall's bed cautiously. He looked about the same as he had the last time she had been in this room, or maybe she was so desperate for him to be okay that her mind was playing tricks on her.

"Marshall," she whispered as she finally reached the bed. "Marshall, what are you doing?" Her hand settled gently on his arm, the only place on his body she wasn't afraid to touch. "Your doctors are saying that you're giving up. What the hell is that about?"

The respirator by his bed hissed, and his chest rose and fell in sync with the sound.

Reaching behind herself, Mary dragged a chair as close to his bed as she could possibly get it. Then she sat down, keeping her hand on his arm. "Stan seems to think you're doing this because of me. I think you're trying to get attention. Well, you have my attention. I'm here." Finding the shooter would have to wait, at least for a little while, if it meant helping Marshall survive this. She would rather risk the chance of not catching him than let her partner die, if Stan and the doctors were right and he was giving up because he thought that she was dead. "So let me know what you need." Her hand moved down his arm to slide into his hand.

"Don't leave me, Marshall, or I swear to God, I'll follow you and kick your ass all over eternity." Raising her free hand, she ran her fingertips lightly over his forehead in an uncharacteristic gesture of affection and reassurance.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Two hours later, Mary hadn't emerged from Marshall's room. Concerned, Anna finally opened the door and was treated to a touching and reassuring sight.

Mary was sitting by Marshall's bed. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and her hand was clutching his fiercely. Even asleep, she seemed determined to protect him.

With a soft smile, Anna slowly backed out of the room, reassured that her son was being well-cared for.

"Sleep well, you two."

* * *

For the rest of the night, Stan, Seth and Anna took turns checking on Mary and Marshall, along with the medical staff. The nurses were still concerned, and one even made the mistake of trying to wake Mary and shoo her from the room. Stan put a stop to that, telling all of the medical staff that Mary was Marshall's protective detail and was not to be asked to leave. One of the nurses puffed up at that, but once Stan explained who he was and the situation they were in, she begrudgingly accepted it. Another nurse even thought it was sweet, and by dawn, Marshall's vitals were finally beginning to stabilize, much to everyone's relief.

Mary awoke around nine, and for a moment, couldn't remember where she was. Then she felt the warmth beneath her and the hand in hers, and it all came flooding back. She had been with Marshall since the previous afternoon, and for the first time since the shooting, she had actually slept through the night.

Slowly sitting up, Mary yawned. Her hand was tucked into Marshall's, and when she tried to remove it, she was shocked when his fingers closed weakly around hers.

"Marshall?" She leaned over, studying his face for any sign that he was waking up. "Marshall, can you hear me?"

His face remained impassive, his features relaxed.

Sighing, she resigned herself to the belief that it was just a reflex, not a sign that he was coming back to her. She started to pull her hand away again, and once more, Marshall held tightly to it. Mary watched his face again.

"What are you doing, Doofus? I'm not going anywhere." She rested her free hand on his forehead. "Is that what you're afraid of? That I'm going to leave?" Mary sighed softly. "Marshall, you saved my life. You shouldn't have, but you took the bullets that were meant for me. And a long time ago, you told me that if you save someone's life, you become responsible for that person. But you've always been responsible for me. You can't stop now." Her thumb lightly stroke his forehead. "I'd be lost without you, Marshall. I'm a selfish bitch, but I'm not letting you give up. Not now, not ever."

Without letting go of his hand, Mary sat back down by his bed and let out a slow breath.

"Not ever."

An hour later, Anna and Seth slipped into Marshall's room. Mary looked up when the door opened, and her free hand instinctively went to her gun.

Anna smiled at Mary. "Hi, sweetheart. I brought you breakfast."

"Thanks, Anna, but I'm not-"

She waved a hand dismissively. "You need to eat, Mary."

Mary looked at Marshall. His grip was still firm on her hand, and she hesitated to let go.

Seeing this, Anna tipped her head curiously. "Mary? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Maybe with his mother in the room, he would let go of her hand. Slowly, she started to pull her hand out of his, only to feel Marshall tighten his grip. She sighed. "Marshall, this is getting ridiculous."

Both Seth and Anna looked to her. "Is he waking up?" Anna demanded.

"No, I don't think so. Ever since I woke up, he hasn't let go of my hand." She waved Anna and Seth over with her free hand, then once again attempted to free the hand Marshall held. And once more, his grip tightened.

Anna's eyes widened with amazement. "It was you," she whispered.

"What are you talking about?"

"Mary, he was giving up. His doctors were preparing us for the worst. Then you came in…"

Mary blushed. "He can be a stubborn jackass when he wants something."

Seth laughed, discreetly swiping at his eyes. "You're right about that."

Taking the plate that Anna offered, Mary balanced it on her leg and used her free hand to dig her fork into a pile of scrambled eggs. "You're lucky, Doofus," she muttered. "I'm starving." She stuck a bite of the eggs into her mouth.

Laughing, Anna kissed Mary's head, then Marshall's.

Her boy was going to be okay.

Before Mary finished the breakfast that Anna had brought to her, Marshall's primary nurse, Sheila, came into the room. Anna liked Sheila, but Mary hadn't met her, and she reflexively tensed and set the plate aside with the hand that Marshall wasn't clutching.

Sheila offered Mary a bright smile. "Well, you must be Mary. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Sheila, Marshall's day nurse."

Mary nodded. "I'm his partner."

"I've heard. His mother told me all about you." She began checking Marshall's vitals. "His vitals have really improved since yesterday."

That made Mary smile. "He's not used to getting his way with me."

Sheila looked up at the cryptic message. "What do you mean?"

Mary had spent her whole life trusting her gut instinct, and right now, it was telling her that Sheila could be trusted. She wouldn't harm Marshall. "Watch." Moving carefully, she attempted to withdraw her hand from Marshall's. And just as before, his fingers tightened around hers, refusing to release her.

Sheila raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. It could be a reflex."

Anna scoffed.

"Or he could be attempting to wake up. I'm going to increase his sedation-"

"Why?" Mary demanded, her mouth twisting into a scowl.

"He's recovering from surgery to remove four bullets from his body. The pain is going to be unbearable, and right now he's still too weak to breathe on his own." Sheila adjusted one of the machines. "We want to keep him as comfortable as possible, and for the moment, that means keeping him asleep." She looked at Mary and Marshall's entwined hands. "I know it's hard to believe, but he's come a long way in just a few days." In fact, today was the first day that Sheila thought he might not die. "He just has to come a little further."

"What can I do for him?" Mary focused her gaze on their hands. Her thumb absently began caressing Marshall's knuckles.

"Keep doing exactly what you're doing." Because whatever this woman was doing, it was working. "Talk to him, hold his hand, just let him know that you're here with him."

Anna leaned against Mary's chair and watched her son. She knew her little boy better than anyone else, and she could see that this woman was good for him.

Sheila finished her check of her patient, then made a few notes on his chart. "He's improving. But if you notice anything that concerns you, just hit the call button."

"We'll do that," Anna assured her.

"Great." Sheila left the room, and as the door closed, Anna squeezed Mary's shoulder.

"You heard Sheila. He's doing better."

"I'll be okay when he opens his eyes, Anna." And that was the truth. When she saw those sleepy cerulean eyes, she could relax and know that he would be okay.

"I understand." She motioned to the abandoned plate. "Why don't you try to finish your breakfast?"

Mary shook her head. "I've eaten all I can. Thank you." She was unusually polite and patient, but her concern for Marshall took the place of her usual aggression and sarcasm.

"Okay, honey." Squeezing Mary's shoulder, Anna took the only empty chair in the room and dragged it up to the head of the bed, opposite Mary. Sitting down in it, she placed her hand on her son's forehead and lightly stroked his brow.

Mary watched the tender way Anna touched her son, and she was glad that Marshall had such good memories to cushion the harsh reality of life. Her gaze settled on their hands, and she gently squeezed his fingers.

Her heart leapt in her chest when he squeezed back.

* * *

Vivian had just returned from her usual run, and she wiped the sweat from her brow as she grabbed her mail and headed into her apartment building. She was thinking about everything she had told Mary, replaying the conversation over and over in her mind. Mary was a tough woman, and even harder to get close to. In fact, the only person Vivian had seen Mary treat with real respect and affection, even if she didn't mean to, was Marshall Mann.

As she sorted through her mail and reached for her keys, she didn't notice anything unusual about her surroundings. She retrieved the correct key (Mary liked to tease her about having enough keys to be a custodian) and slid it into the lock.

Down the hall, a young woman was just exiting her own apartment when she heard the ear-splitting explosion. The force sent her to her knees, and the heat made her eyes water. Her ears rang violently as she coughed and forced herself to her hands and knees, then crawled back into her apartment for her phone and dialed 911.

"I need help. I think a bomb just went off in my apartment building…"

* * *

Around four p.m., Anna reluctantly left with Seth to get dinner. She promised to bring Mary something to eat as well, despite Mary's argument that she didn't need anything. She appreciated and even enjoyed Anna's presence, but she was looking forward to a few minutes alone with her wounded partner.

The door finally closed, and Mary let out a slow breath. She was not used to entertaining people, but she didn't want to be rude to Anna. She almost laughed at that. Anyone else, she would have ignored. But she didn't have it in her to do that to Marshall's family.

She leaned back in her chair, frowning when she moved her fingers in Marshall's and he didn't react. Whatever Sheila had given him, it was strong. With a sigh, she sat up again and rested her elbow on Marshall's bed.

"Hey, pal. I thought you should know that your mom is giving me all kinds of dirt on you." She watched his face for a reaction of any kind before continuing. "She says she's going to bring pictures for me to look at. I just know she's got one of you naked on a bearskin rug."

A small smile curved her lips as she absently brushed back an errant strand of hair off his forehead. "I don't know if you can even hear any of this, but you once told me that people who have been hurt worse than you came out of it and could remember everything their family and friends told them. So I like to think I'm not just wasting my breath."

Then again, she had never considered talking to him a waste of anything. Her fingers moved lightly through his thick hair.

The door swung open, and in a split second Mary had her gun out and trained on the intruder.

Jinx Shannon frowned at her oldest daughter. "Mary, sweetheart, what on earth are you doing?"

Mary scowled and tucked her gun away. "I should be asking you that. No one is allowed in here right now except me and his family."

Jinx waved her hand. "One of the nurses let me come in. I just needed to talk to you for a second in the hall."

"I don't think so." Marshall was finally improving, and she had no interest in leaving him, even for a second.

"It's important, sweetheart," Jinx insisted with a pout.

"No, Mom. Nothing is as important as my partner right now," Mary snapped.

Jinx's eyes widened. She wasn't used to such a belligerent attitude from her oldest daughter. Crocodile tears gathered in her eyes. "Not even me and your sister?"

"Are either of you recovering from being shot multiple times?"

"No, but-"

"Then no, you're not as important right now. Deal with it, Mom." Mary turned back to Marshall.

"How dare you…"

Stan suddenly entered the room, breathless and clearly distressed. "Mary, we have a big problem."

"What?"

"A 911 call just came from Vivian Callahan's apartment building. There was an explosion."

Jinx was still pouting, but she had the sense to leave the hospital room.

Reluctantly Mary released Marshall's hand. Then she stood up and faced Stan. "What happened? Is Vivian okay?" She had a bad feeling in her gut, and she couldn't help thinking that this had something to do with Vivian calling her and telling her about her ex.

Stan shook his head slowly. "No, Mary. Vivian was killed in the blast."

Slowly Mary sat back down in her chair. "Oh, God…"

"Yeah. You have something to tell me?"

She rubbed her hand roughly over her face. "Vivian called me Tuesday, claiming she had information about the shooting."

"And you didn't tell me? Jesus, Mary…"

"She thought that her ex might somehow be responsible. Apparently he blames me for Vivian dumping him."

Stan remembered the lowlife. "So he shoots up a funeral and a crime scene?"

"I think he was trying to take me out, then make it look like he wasn't trying for one target." Unfortunately Marshall had gotten caught in the crossfire, and now he was lying in a hospital bed and fighting for his life.

"And you didn't tell me any of this."

"No, because I was trying to catch the son of a bitch myself."

Stan rubbed the back of his neck. "And now Vivian is dead. You know I have to suspend you for this, Mary."

"Suspend me?" Mary shot to her feet, pulling Stan out of Marshall's room and into the hall. "Stan, you can't suspend me. I have to find this son of a bitch before he takes another shot at anyone." If it really was Vivian's ex doing this, he had no problems with collateral damage while trying to take her out.

"I don't have a choice!" He sighed. "Look, Mary, everyone in the office is on this. I even called Dershowitz, and he's working around the clock. We'll get this mutt. But as of right now, you are suspended." He hoped that she would take it as an opportunity to sit with her partner and focus on him.

Mary's look turned dangerous, but finally she reached down and unclipped her badge from her pants. Then she handed it to her boss.

"I'm sorry…"

She held a hand up and shook her head. "Don't." Then she looked down the hall, where Jinx was still waiting. "Keep her out of my partner's room." She stalked back into Marshall's room, but took care not to slam the door behind herself.

Stan watched her go. Then he tucked her badge into his pocket with a resigned sigh.

"Sorry, Mary."

Back in Marshall's room, Mary paced around for a while before she finally sat down. But instead of sitting in the uncomfortable chair that had unofficially become hers, she perched herself delicately on the bed, beside Marshall's waist. Then she reached out and lightly touched his cheek.

"Don't worry, Marshall. I'm going to get the bastard who put you here, if it's the last thing that I do."

To Be Continued...

A/N: I'm trying to keep Mary as in character as possible, and I thought that this conversation between her and Jinx was very much in character. But in the next chapter and even further, we'll see a tender side of Mary that only comes out with Marshall. The next chapter is a little shorter, but probably the most intense, and I have it ready to post. So send in those reviews, people, and let me know what ya'll think! Thanks for reading!


	5. Blowback

And now we have arrived at what just might be my favorite chapter of the story (so far). It's shorter than the others, but there's so much emotional stuff and what-have-you, that it felt right to keep it short. There is a lot of angst and protective Mary (which many of ya'll have seemed to enjoy) and at the end, there is a pretty harsh cliffhanger. Be warned, and enjoy this new chapter!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

_And wild horses_

_Couldn't drag me away_

-The Sundays, Wild Horses

* * *

Sunday afternoon marked a week since Marshall was shot. After Stan suspended Mary, she had refused to leave Marshall's side for anything. Even Anna and Seth couldn't convince her to take a break. Eventually Sheila was kind enough to have a cot brought into the room so that Mary could at least attempt to get some sleep.

It wasn't until Tuesday morning that Mary finally had enough with not knowing where the case was going. She didn't care that Stan had suspended her, especially not after she received a very informative text message from a friend. She waited for Anna to arrive before she leaned over Marshall and lightly touched his temple.

"I'll be back soon, Doofus. Behave yourself." She smoothed his hair back gently. "Anna, I have to leave for a while. But I'll be back as soon as I can."

Anna watched Mary. "Okay, sweetheart."

"Please, don't leave him alone. And call me if anything changes."

"You know I will."

"Thanks." Mary grabbed her jacket and yanked it on. Then she looked at Marshall one more time before she left his hospital room.

Luckily for her, Stan was nowhere to be seen. She had given her badge to him, but all that meant to her was that she was no longer acting as a marshal. She was a woman hell-bent on revenge and justice for the man who was her best friend.

And she would get it, or die trying.

* * *

Twenty minutes after leaving the hospital, Mary pulled up in front of a sleazy hotel. She checked her phone again, making sure she had the right place. She did. Then she pulled her backup piece from under her seat and tucked it into the back of her pants. With another cursory glance at her phone, she got out of the car and jogged over to the room where Vivian's ex, Lonnie DeMarco, was likely hiding.

Without hesitation, she kicked the door open. "Lonnie DeMarco!"

No one was in the room. Swearing, Mary went to the bathroom, and the sight that greeted her caught her by surprise.

Lonnie DeMarco was lying in the bathtub, a single bullet hole in his forehead. He had been dead for a while, by the looks of it. There was a gun on the floor, and blowback on the wall.

"Shit."

* * *

Dominic Senser smirked as he removed his gun from the holster and placed it on the table in front of him. By now, someone had probably found Lonnie's body. Lonnie was a tool. So angry at the bitch marshal who had convinced Vivian to dump him, he had sought out Dominic and paid him money to kill her. But since he didn't want it to look like a targeted shooting, he had insisted that Dominic take her out in a public place, and hit a few others as well. But someone had gotten in the way, and because she was still alive after the second shooting, Lonnie had refused to give Dominic the full payment.

Stupid man.

But Dominic was a man of his word. He would take out the female marshal, and just for kicks, he might even get rid of her friend, too. That wouldn't be much of a challenge. He was already half-dead, anyway.

Dominic opened Mary Shannon's file again and began leafing through it.

Oh, yes, there was more than one way to strike a mortal blow at Mary Shannon.

* * *

After finding the body and being debriefed (not to mention receiving a rough dressing down from Stan), Mary was finally allowed to go back to Marshall. Lonnie had been seen on the video tapes of the shootings, and the case was officially closed. Mary felt relief, but to some extent, she was still concerned. She dragged her weary self back to the hospital, to Marshall, and tried not to dwell on the knot in her stomach.

Anna was sitting by her son's bed when Mary finally returned, and she smiled at the younger woman. "Mary…"

"How is he, Anna?" she asked gently as she stopped beside Marshall's bed.

"He's still the same."

Nodding, Mary slid her hand into Marshall's and gently squeezed his fingers. She was surprised and delighted when, after a few moments, she felt a squeeze in return. "Hey, you…"

Anna got to her feet. "Is he awake?"

"I don't know, but he just squeezed my hand again."

"I'll go get the nurse." Anna hurried out of the room.

Alone with Marshall, Mary leaned over and lightly touched his cheek with her free hand. "Are you through hiding, Marshall?" she whispered. "I have to talk to you."

A moment later, Marshall's eyelashes fluttered , and his free hand came up to touch his head.

"Marshall?" Mary reached out and gently caught his hand in hers.

Suddenly he thrashed, and his eyes flew open. Mary winced at the panic she saw in his eyes.

"Marshall, calm down!" Before he could pull anything or hurt himself, Mary pressed herself against him and lightly held him against the bed. There was no strength behind the movements, and she murmured into his ear as she held him.

"It's okay, Marshall. Everything is okay. I've got you." She continued to whisper nonsense into his ear. The words didn't matter. All that mattered was her tone, and that he knew she was there for him.

Suddenly Anna and Sheila were in the room, and before Mary could stop her, Sheila injected a syringe into Marshall's I.V.

Slowly Marshall relaxed beneath her, but Mary didn't let go of him right away. Her own heart was racing dangerously.

Sheila looked at Anna. "Do you know what happened?"

Anna shook her head. "Mary said he was squeezing her hand again. That's when I came to get you."

Mary glanced up from Marshall. "He woke up and panicked."

"That's not entirely unusual. We'll keep him sedated tonight, then ease him off of it tomorrow." Sheila looked at one of the monitors. "We'll probably try to take him off of the ventilator tomorrow, too."

A sense of relief flooded through Mary, and she looked down at Marshall's sleeping face. "That's more like it, cowboy." She gently smoothed his hair back out of his eyes.

Anna and Sheila smiled at Mary as she fussed over Marshall. It was obvious how much she cared about him, even if she didn't say it out loud. If there was one person who was always in Marshall Mann's corner, it was Mary Shannon, and nothing would ever change that.

* * *

As promised, the next afternoon, Sheila got the order to take Marshall off of the ventilator. He was no longer letting it breathe for him; he was fighting it. Anna and Mary stood by his bed; Mary on his right and Anna on his left. As Sheila removed the tube that had helped him breathe for over a week, Anna blanched and looked away. Mary had a stronger stomach, and she held Marshall's hand tightly as the tube was removed and he breathed on his own for the first time in more than a week.

Sheila looked at Mary after she checked Marshall's breathing and placed a cannula under his nose to deliver fresh oxygen into his lungs. "He seems to be doing very well. He'll probably wake up on his own in a little while." She patted Mary's shoulder. "Call me if you notice anything out of the ordinary."

Mary nodded, too focused on Marshall to do much else. She had planned on going home and sleeping in her own bed last night, but she only lasted about an hour before she returned to the hospital. And now that Marshall was finally off of the ventilator, she wasn't going more than two steps away from his side for a while, at least.

Sheila left the room, and Anna looked at Mary, who was watching Marshall's face with an intensity that was absolutely touching. "Mary?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

Mary finally met Anna's eyes.

"He's okay. That's all I care about." And that was the most honest thing she could say.

Anna just smiled.

* * *

Marshall slept for the rest of the afternoon, and by eight, as usual, Anna left for the night after Mary promised to call her if Marshall woke up. Once she was gone, Mary dropped into her chair and took Marshall's hand. In the course of a week, she had touched him more than she had through their entire partnership. He had always thrived on physical contact, and right now was no exception.

With a sigh, Mary leaned forward and rested her head on Marshall's arm, intent on closing her eyes for a few minutes. She was exhausted, and within just a few moments, she was sleeping.

* * *

Just after midnight, Mary's eyes flew open, and she glanced around the hospital room, not sure what had woken her. There was no one in the room with her but Marshall. Once she convinced herself that everything was fine, that Marshall was okay, she let out a breath and looked at Marshall's face. But her heart jumped as soon as she realized that his eyes were open.

"Marshall?"

Without hesitation, Mary laid her hand against his forehead. "Marshall, can you hear me?" She kept her voice low and soothing, something she rarely did but was perfectly capable of when it came to Marshall.

He graced her with a sleepy smile, and her stomach flipped again. "Mare…" His voice was hoarse and scratchy, and it was the most beautiful thing Mary had ever heard.

She nodded, fighting to hold back her tears. "Yeah, Doofus. It's me."

"Mm… My Mary…" His eyes were suddenly too heavy to hold open any more, and they slipped shut again.

Mary continued to stroke his hair. "Yeah, pal. I'm yours," she agreed quietly. She was never a woman who liked to be claimed, but with Marshall, it was a different story. She found herself longing to be his.

His eyes didn't open again, and she stayed with him for a few more minutes, just allowing herself the rare pleasure of running her fingers through his hair. Once she was certain he was sleeping again, she stepped out of the room and called his mother to let him know that he'd been awake. It took some insistence, but Mary managed to convince her not to come to the hospital, since Marshall had gone right back to sleep. Anna promised to be up there first thing in the morning, and Mary ended the call, then stepped back into Marshall's room.

He was still sleeping, but his hand had moved to rest over his chest. Mary sat down, then picked up his hand and squeezed it gently. She was delighted when she received a squeeze in return.

"Welcome back, Marshall."

* * *

When Marshall opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Mary. She was curled up in a chair by his bed, her jacket draped over her. He couldn't help wondering how long she had been there, and how long he had been unconscious. The last thing he remembered was Cheryl Johnson's funeral. What the hell had happened, and why was he in a hospital? Had they wrecked leaving the funeral?

A slow, painful burn in his back was making itself present, and before he could stop himself, a soft groan escaped his lips.

There was movement on the other side of the room, and a lamp was turned on beside his bed. He squinted at the woman who approached him.

"Mom?"

Anna smiled tenderly at her son. "Yes, sweetheart. It's me."

He looked around briefly. "What happened?"

"You were shot. You've been here for more than a week, but this is the first time you've been awake for longer than a few minutes." She poured a glass of water, then placed a straw in it and pressed it to her son's lips.

Marshall gratefully took a few sips. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger. "How long has Mary been here?"

"As much as she could be. We… It was scary there for a while, Marshall. We almost lost you."

The quiet voices roused Mary, and she was surprised and happy to see Marshall awake and talking with his mother. Sitting up, she murmured, "How are you feeling, partner?"

Marshall turned his head toward her voice. "Mary…"

She nodded, a shiver going up her spine. "Yeah. I'm here."

He extended a hand to her, and she gladly took it, reveling in the sensation of his long fingers curling around hers. "Are you in any pain, Marshall?"

"Yeah," he whispered, unable as always to lie to her. "My back… What happened?"

"Shh…" He had been lying on his back for a while, so he was probably more sore than he should have been. A couple of times a day, Sheila brought in orderlies to turn him onto his side for a while, to prevent bedsores. Mary always insisted on staying to make sure her partner was not mishandled. Her hand squeezed his in a gesture of comfort. "I'll get a nurse in here to give you something for the pain."

Anna kissed her son's head. "I'll get her." She gave Mary a concerned look before hurrying out of the room.

Getting to her feet, Mary kept her hand in Marshall's as she watched his face. "Try to think about something else, Marshall."

His eyes were becoming glazed with pain, and his breathing was growing more strained. "Like what…?"

"Anything." Her thumb moved across his knuckles. "I've been here with you for over a week. I met your mom and your brothers."

"My mom… how long's she been here?"

"She mostly stays during the day. Your dad makes her go home at night, and I stay with you."

Sheila sauntered into Marshall's room, a bright smile on her face. "Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence!" she exclaimed.

"He's in a lot of pain," Mary explained.

"Yes, Mrs. Mann told me. Don't worry." She produced a syringe and injected it into Marshall's I.V.

Mary eyed it warily. "Are you sedating him again?"

"No, I'm just giving him something to help him relax." She watched the heart monitor, and when his heart rate returned to an acceptable level, she joined Mary. "I bet you're tired of being on your back. What do you say we get you on your side, so there isn't so much pressure and friction?"

Marshall looked eager and wary. "Okay."

Sheila turned to Mary. "Would you like to give me a hand, or would you rather I call an orderly?"

Mary shook her head immediately and got to her feet. "What do I do?"

"Just take his arm and follow my lead."

Mary nodded, and together they carefully moved Marshall onto his side. But as they moved him, Mary was watching his face, and she knew that something was wrong.

As Sheila adjusted the blankets and placed a pillow behind Marshall's back, Mary focused on Marshall. "Marshall? What is it? Are you okay?"

He had lost the color in his face. Something was very wrong.

"Marshall." Mary leaned over, cupping his cheek in her hand. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

The words he said next made the bottom fall out from under her.

"I can't… Mary, I can't feel my legs."

To Be Continued...

A/N: *hides under rock* Review, please! :D


	6. His Protector

Alright, before anyone kills me over that cliffhanger, here's the next chapter. Protective and caring Mary abound! And I even threw in a little reference to another popular show. Cookies to anyone who gets it! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

_I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you_

_Won't let nobody hurt you_

_I'll stand by you, take me in, into your darkest hour_

_And I'll never desert you_

_I'll stand by you_

-Carrie Underwood, I'll Stand By You

* * *

Mary stared at her partner, her mind racing. He couldn't feel his legs. What was wrong with him? Her head started to spin.

Fear was beginning to take over Marshall's mind, and on instinct, he reached out and grabbed Mary's hand, clinging to it like a lifeline.

Mary returned his grip with a ferocious one of her own. She was scared, so she couldn't imagine how terrified Marshall was. She had to give Sheila credit for responding so calmly.

"Temporary numbness and even paralysis are completely normal after an event like the one you experienced, Marshall. You were shot four times, and one of those bullets rested against your spine. It took close to an hour to remove that one alone." She went to the foot of the bed and pulled out a pen. Then she pulled the sheet back to reveal Marshall's feet. Without hesitation, she poked the sole of his foot. "Did you feel that?"

Marshall shook his head numbly. His grip on Mary's hand tightened.

"Okay. You probably have some swelling around your spine. You had Dr. Steven Reilly remove the bullets, and he's the best this hospital has. I'll get him in here as soon as I'm through."

"Is it permanent?" Mary questioned, and Sheila gave her a sad look.

"I can't answer that, Mary."

Sheila hurried out of the room a minute later, leaving Mary alone with her wounded partner.

At a loss for what to do, Mary did the only thing that she could. Gently lifting Marshall's head, she carefully sat down on the bed with him. Then she placed Marshall's head in her lap and settled her hand against his head.

Immediately Marshall wrapped his arm around Mary's waist. Then he buried his face in her abdomen, his shoulders trembling.

"Shh…" She didn't dare say that everything would be okay. She honestly didn't know. But she was selfishly grateful that he was at least alive. If he was alive, she could get him through this. She would take care of him.

Breathing hard, Marshall clung even tighter to his best friend. The painkillers were creating a fog that enveloped him, and he was too exhausted to fight the encroaching darkness. "Mary…"

"What is it, Marshall?" she whispered, gently pushing his hair back.

"Don't leave me."

Shaking her head, Mary held him tighter. "Never," she breathed. She couldn't promise much right now, but that was one thing she could swear. She wasn't going to leave him.

He sighed, and just a few moments later he was sleeping deeply.

By the time Sheila returned with Dr. Reilly, she wasn't surprised to see that Marshall had fallen asleep in his partner's arms. She gave Mary a brief smile.

"Mary, this is Dr. Steven Reilly."

Mary tried to muster a friendly smile for Dr. Reilly. "I'm Mary Shannon. Marshall is my partner."

"Nurse Sheila told me that he's not able to feel his legs." He looked at Marshall's chart.

"That's right. She said it might be because of the bullet that was close to his spine."

Reilly nodded. "When your partner was brought to us, he was barely alive. He was shot four times, but one of the bullets exited his body. Two of the bullets bounced around and did considerable damage, but luckily for Mr. Mann, none of his vital organs were irreparably harmed."

Mary's stomach churned as she finally got a first hand account of how grievous Marshall's injuries had been. Stan had told her a few things, and so had Sheila. But hearing it from the doctor who had been in the O.R. with Marshall…

"The fourth bullet did the most damage. It fragmented, and the majority of it settled against Mr. Mann's spine. We were able to retrieve the fragments without damaging his spine, or so I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if Mr. Mann has lost feeling in his lower extremities, then there is a possibility that we missed a fragment of the bullet, and it could be causing the paralysis."

"Can you remove it?"

"First of all, we'll need a CAT scan of his spine, to make sure there is, in fact, a bullet fragment that we missed, or if it's just a matter of a pinched nerve."

"And if it's neither of those?" Mary asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer she would receive.

"That would mean that his spinal cord is damaged, and that his paralysis is most likely permanent." Reilly gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. I wish I had better news. But in all honesty, I didn't expect him to survive the shooting at all."

Mary became defensive. "You don't know him. He's tough."

"He must be, or he would be dead." Reilly closed the file. "I'll be back up here shortly to take him for the CAT scan."

Numb, Mary nodded. Reilly left the room, and Sheila looked at Mary.

"You okay, Mary?"

"I don't know." She looked down at Marshall, who was still sleeping in her lap. She was grateful that he was still alive, and that she had him. But she knew that, if he was permanently paralyzed, he would no longer meet the physical requirements to be a U.S. marshal. She had no idea how he was going to handle that. Being a marshal was all he knew how to do, and now there was the chance he would never be able to do it again. Her fingers moved lightly over his forehead. If he couldn't be a marshal, then he couldn't be her partner anymore. To her, the idea of having a new partner was unacceptable. Marshal was her partner. She couldn't lose him.

_At least he's alive_, she reminded herself harshly. Just a week ago, she had been praying for the first time in years, in the hopes that somehow his life would be spared. It had.

Sheila slipped out of the room, unnoticed by Mary.

Mary let out a slow breath. Worst case scenario, Marshall was paralyzed for life. He would be confined to a wheelchair, and he would no longer be able to work as a marshal. He would have to find a new place to live, one that was wheelchair accessible, and he would have to change his entire way of life.

Her fingers continued to feather through his hair as the wheels started to turn in her brain. When he was released from the hospital, he would need help. He probably wouldn't want to go back to Texas with his family unless he had no other option. But her house was large and roomy, and if it wasn't wheelchair friendly, she could make it so. She would help Jinx and Brandi find places of their own, and Marshall could stay in Brandi's room, which was large and comfortable.

She sighed. She was getting ahead of herself. She needed to know every possible outcome, but she wanted to focus on the best one. The one that involved Marshall walking out of the hospital and remaining her partner. It was selfish of her, but that was what she wanted.

Marshall stirred in her lap, and without thinking she shushed him softly and pulled a blanket tighter around him.

"I'm here, Marshall. We'll figure this out."

Within the hour, Sheila returned with two orderlies, and Mary watched as Marshall was taken upstairs for his CAT scan. Once he was gone, Mary felt lost. Somehow, in the span of a week, Marshall had become her entire world. How the hell had that happened?

Sighing, Mary walked out of the I.C.U. and called Marshall's family, letting them know to come to the hospital as soon as they could. His brothers were scheduled to return to Texas in a day or two, but his parents were staying until he was released from the hospital.

Anna answered, and without going into too much detail, Mary explained that Marshall had been taken for more testing, and that she and Seth should return to the hospital as soon as possible. Anna promised they would be there soon, and Mary hung up the phone. Then she walked out of the hospital, and didn't stop walking until tears were rolling down her cheeks and she was out of breath.

"Marshall…"

* * *

When Marshall was brought back to his room, his parents were waiting for him. He managed a soft smile for them, but he wasn't feeling like entertaining anyone. His eyes quickly scanned the room, and his heart dropped when he realized that Mary wasn't in the room. A cold depression began to envelop him. Maybe she had realized that without the use of his legs, he could no longer be her partner. Maybe she was washing her hands of him entirely.

The orderlies moved him to his bed and made him as comfortable as possible while Dr. Reilly talked to his parents and explained the situation that Marshall was already aware of. Marshall heard his father gasp and his mother cry, but he didn't have the strength or energy to try to reassure them. He turned his head away from everyone and closed his eyes. God, he wished that Mary was there with him.

Miserable, he tried to block everything out until sleep finally took him.

* * *

After they spoke with Dr. Reilly, Anna turned to talk to Marshall. But he was asleep, and she pulled Seth out of the room and into the hallway.

Seth ran his hand over his face. "God…"

Chris and Michael found them a few moments later, and Anna hugged each of her sons. "I'm so glad you two are here."

Michael nodded. "What's going on with Marshall?"

"It's not good news. He… he might be paralyzed."

Shock registered with both brothers, but Christopher was the first to speak. "Is it permanent?"

"There's a chance," Seth responded quietly.

Michael and Christopher exchanged sober glances, and once more, Christopher spoke first.

"We should take him home."

Anna looked at her son. "What?"

"If he's paralyzed, and it's permanent, he should be with us in Texas, not here. He doesn't have family here." Christopher was the oldest of the Marshall sons, and a family man. He had married not long after he became a marshal, and he and his wife had three children. If his youngest brother was permanently paralyzed, he needed to be with family, at home, so he could recuperate. As the oldest, Chris was also very aggressive and loud about his opinions, especially when he felt that he was right.

Mike looked at Chris like he had grown a second head. "Chris, Marshall's whole life is here. We can't expect him to give all of that up." Mike was older than Marshall by six years, and he had taken it upon himself to be Marshall's protector early on. He stuck up for Marshall in school, and one time had beaten the crap out of another kid for bullying Marshall. Even now, some twenty years later, Mike still felt that urge to protect him.

"He's going to need help. He can stay with me and Rose. Our house is big enough."

"But you have no idea what Marshall wants!"

"I know he's close to his partner, and I'm not sure he'd be willing to leave her."

Chris scoffed. "Oh, right. You mean the whole reason he's here in the first place."

Anna frowned. "Christopher…"

"It's true, Mom. He was shot trying to protect her, and where is she now?" He extended an arm and looked around. "In fact, I've only seen her here once!"

"She has been here day and night, Christopher. You need to stop this."

"Stop what, Mom? Stop telling the truth? If he hadn't tried to be the hero, he wouldn't have been shot four times, he wouldn't be paralyzed, and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Seth finally stepped in. "You know how important partners are, Christopher. For god's sakes, you've been a marshal longer than Marshall has! He did what he did to save Mary."

"And look where it got him."

"Go to hell," a soft but dangerous voice said, and the Mann family turned to see Mary standing a few feet away. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her expression could have turned their blood to ice.

Anna held a hand out. "Mary, honey, we were just discussing…"

"How I almost got Marshall killed? How I'm a terrible partner? Yeah, I already knew that." A flicker of grief touched her features, but it was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by a barely controlled rage.

To his credit, Chris approached her, a contrite look on his face. "I didn't mean it like that, Mary. I'm just worried about my little brother, and I want what's best for him. I know you do, too."

"Of course I do. He's my best friend."

"Well, we were just talking about taking Marshall back to Texas with us, while he recuperates."

Mary's stomach dropped. "What?"

"It's just something we're discussing." He gave her a small smile. "His whole family is in Texas, and if he can't work anymore, then he really doesn't have any significant ties here."

"He has me!" Mary snapped. Her head was spinning, but she stood her ground as the meaning of his words sank in for her. They wanted to take Marshall away from her. "He'll always have me."

"But you're not family," Chris pointed out.

"Christopher," Anna warned, but it was too late. Before anyone blinked, Mary pulled her arm back and slammed her fist against the side of Chris' face. Caught off guard, he stumbled backward, clutching his face.

"What the hell is your problem?" he yelled, earning a deadly glare from the nurses at the end of the hall.

"You," Mary snarled. Then she gave the rest of the family a hurt look. "You're not taking him from me."

Anna took a step toward Mary. "Mary, sweetheart, we're not…"

"Like hell you're not." Mary pulled Marshall's door open and stepped inside, closing the door behind herself.

Anna watched her go with a heavy heart.

In Marshall's room, Mary approached the bed quietly. Marshall seemed to be sleeping deeply, his head turned away from her and his hand resting on his chest. With a soft sound of regret, she dropped heavily into her chair. Then she reached out and took Marshall's hand into her own.

"I'm sorry, Marshall," she whispered, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for. For leaving him, or for not being able to let him go?

Marshall heard her words, and his heart clenched. Was she apologizing for being gone, or the fact that she was about to leave him for good? He couldn't blame her if she was. If he was crippled, he couldn't be her partner anymore. They were friends, but she had no responsibility toward him. Maybe it would be best for everyone if he went home with his parents.

Still believing he was asleep, Mary lightly kissed Marshall's cheek. Then she sat back in her chair, his hand still tucked safely in hers.

Stunned, Marshall's mind went into overdrive. What the hell had she done that for? Sympathy? His stomach churned at the thought. He didn't want sympathy, especially from her. That was the last thing he wanted from her. He wanted her to see him the same way she always had, but that was an impossible hope. He didn't even see himself the same way. How could he expect her to?

Her thumb began stroking his knuckles, and he fell asleep again, his mind focused on regret and misery.

* * *

Dr. Reilly finally returned to Marshall's room that evening. Marshall was still sleeping, and Mary was reading a book that Stan had brought by for her. As soon as she heard his entrance, she closed the book and looked at him expectantly.

To the surprise of them both, Marshall spoke up. "Dr. Reilly…" His voice was more cold than Mary had heard it in a long time.

"Marshall." Reilly opened the file in his hands. "I have the results of your CAT scan."

Without thinking, Mary reached out and grasped Marshall's hand. More and more lately, it seemed, she was reaching out to him for comfort. To her relief, he didn't pull his hand away from hers. She looked at the doctor expectantly.

"I've viewed the X-rays, and we were right. There is a very small fragment of the bullet lodged next to your spine. It is causing swelling, which is likely causing your paralysis."

Mary couldn't help the surge of hope that flooded her.

Reilly continued. "We'll take you up to surgery first thing in the morning to remove the fragment and make sure there are no others. Then-"

"Why didn't you do that in the first place?" Marshall snapped, and both Mary and Reilly were caught off guard.

"Marshall, we were more concerned with keeping you alive-"

"So you left part of a bullet in me? I could be stuck in a goddamn wheelchair for the rest of my life!"

Finally shaking off her shock, Mary got to her feet and gently gripped Marshall's shoulder. "Could you give us a few minutes, Dr. Reilly?"

He nodded. "Don't let him eat anything after midnight. I'll schedule the surgery as early as possible."

Mary nodded, and he stepped back out of the room.

Once the door was closed, Mary looked at Marshall. "Marshall, what the hell was that about?"

He shrugged her hand off, not meeting her eyes. "You don't have to stay here, Mary. You have no obligation to me."

She frowned. "Obligation? You think I feel obligated?"

"Isn't that why you're here?"

"Jesus Christ, Marshall…" Sighing, Mary sat down beside his waist. Sheila had warned her about possible mood swings and their unpredictability, but Mary had not expected this. Marshall was always so even-tempered. But he had just been shot four times, and now he was facing the possibility of living life in a wheelchair. Suddenly she couldn't blame him. Sheila had also said what he needed was unconditional love and acceptance. He was facing some very dark times ahead. "Look at me."

He purposefully kept his head turned toward the window. "You can go, Mary. I don't need you here."

"Marshall…"

"What part of get out don't you understand?" he snarled, and Mary's eyes widened.

She was the only safe target that he had, the only person he trusted entirely not to step away from him, so he lashed out at her, knowing that he couldn't drive her away. She understood it, because she had done it to him countless times. "No."

"No, what?" Marshall growled.

"I'm not letting you do this. You can scream and yell and treat me like shit, but I'm not walking out of this room." Inhaling deeply, she reached out and gently grasped his chin. Then she turned his head slowly, until their eyes met. His cerulean eyes were filled with tears, catching Mary off guard.

Mistaking her silence for disgust, Marshall closed his eyes.

"Hey…" Leaning closer to him, Mary gently applied more pressure to her grip on his chin. "Look at me."

Ever so slowly, he opened his eyes and reluctantly met her gaze.

"Marshall, I want you to listen to me, and listen to me good. You are not an obligation. You never have been, and you never will be." She cradled his face gently in her hands. "I know you're afraid right now, and that's okay. You're allowed to be afraid. But you're not alone. And no matter how much you yell at me or how angry you get, I'm staying right here with you."

A tear rolled down his cheek, and Mary gently wiped it away with her thumb. "I'm not going to say everything's going to be okay," she whispered. "I don't know if it will. But I can say this. For what it's worth, you have me. You'll always have me."

Marshall watched her, stunned and terrified, furious and lost. His life was changing, and he was powerless to stop it. But the one constant in his life, the one person who scared him more than anything and the one person he knew he couldn't live without, was there with him. She was promising that she wouldn't go anywhere, and no matter what, Mary always kept her promises.

"Talk to me, Marshall," she encouraged, worried that she had gone too far. "Please."

He leaned into her hand, reveling in the contact that it provided. God, he loved her. "I… I'm afraid," he finally whispered.

He was afraid… Of course he was, and he had every right in the world to be. But she didn't know what to say to comfort him. He was far better with words than she was. She was more of a show person, rather than tell. So she slid her arm around his shoulders, drawing him into her arms.

At the unexpected embrace, Marshall tensed. But the tension quickly melted away, and he buried his face in her shoulder as the dam broke and his tears fell in a torrent.

Without hesitation, Mary held him tighter and rested her head against his. This was what he needed. A shoulder to cry on. He had been a shoulder for her to cry on countless times. It was her turn to return the favor, and she did it happily. Her hand came up and gently cradled his head against her shoulder.

"You have me," she whispered into his ear. "For as long as you can tolerate me, you'll have me."

Through his tears, he smiled softly and held onto her as tightly as he could. He was still very weak and his strength was drained easily. Sleep threatened to claim him, but he fought it, desperate to stay in her arms for just a little while longer. "That's the best threat I've ever heard."

"Damn right." Her shoulder was still stiff, and her back protested the position she was in. So she pulled back just enough so that Marshall could see her eyes. "Where do you want me?"

He tightened his grip on her. "Here."

Nodding, she rested her lips briefly against his forehead. "Okay. Then we need to get more comfortable."

"I'm very comfortable."

She chuckled. "I'm sure you are." Moving slowly, she helped him sit upright. Then she slid in behind him, settling herself against the pillows before she pulled him back so that he was resting against her. He turned his upper body slightly so that nothing was against his wounds, then placed his head on her shoulder. Mary smiled.

"Comfortable?"

"Mm hmm."

"Good." Reaching down, Mary pulled the quilt that Anna had brought around him. Then she rested her head against his and wrapped an arm loosely around him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered after several moments of silence.

"What could you possibly have to be sorry about, Doofus?"

"Yelling at you. I shouldn't have."

"Marshall, stop." She ran her hand lightly up and down his arm. "You needed a safe target to lash out at, someone you knew wouldn't leave. I'm not leaving."

He yawned deeply. "Thanks…"

"Go to sleep, Doofus."

With a soft chuckle, he relaxed against her and easily surrendered to the darkness. Mary stayed awake for a while longer, just holding him and stroking his arm.

No, she wouldn't let his family take him away from her. Ever.

* * *

Marshall's family stayed out of the room for the rest of the night, much to Mary's relief. She wanted to concentrate on Marshall, and not waste her energy on his family. Not now.

At seven a.m., Marshall was taken out of the room and back into surgery. Mary walked with him as far as she could go, until the nurses gently told her that she could go no further. As he disappeared out of her sight, her stomach dropped, and she had to remind herself that the medical staff would take excellent care of Marshall. Still, she hated relinquishing him to anyone that she didn't know. She was responsible for him, no matter what anyone else said.

Once Marshall was in the O.R., Mary stood there for a while, feeling a little lost without him. Eventually she walked down the hall, to the closest waiting room. They were going to get that fragment out of him, and he would be able to walk again. Then he wouldn't lose his standing as a marshal, and his family wouldn't push him into going back with them to Texas. The thought turned her stomach. She couldn't lose him. If the worst case scenario happened, and he did decide to go back to Texas with his parents, then she would go, too. She would transfer to a WITSEC unit and get a house near him. Jinx and Brandi would have to find their own places, but it was long overdue. They needed to stand on their own two legs. But for Mary, Marshall was everything. He had said something years ago, and it was forcing its way to the front of her mind. Something about nations and going…

She scrubbed her hands over her face roughly. If the worst happened, and Marshall returned to Texas, there was no doubt in her mind what she would do. And suddenly the words came to her mind, so loud and very clear.

_As Marshall goes, so goes my nation_.

* * *

Dominic smiled at the people he passed by as he strolled down the street in front of the hospital where he had tracked Mary Shannon to. He was also able to find out that her partner was paralyzed, and very vulnerable. How better to torment Mary before he served that final blow?

He looked up at the hospital, another smile forming on his face.

He had a job to finish, but who said he couldn't have a little fun first?

* * *

An hour after Mary went into the O.R. waiting room, Marshall's family arrived. She didn't want to be around them at the moment, but her only other option was to leave and that was simply unacceptable. She wanted to be as close to Marshall as she could possibly be, and she would settle for nothing else.

Anna sat down beside Mary, a remorseful look on her face. "Mary, can I talk to you?"

"I'm not exactly in a talking mood," Mary muttered.

"I understand." She reached out and gently took the younger woman's hand. "Mary, Marshall is my baby boy, and I want what's best for him."

Mary seethed silently, but didn't interrupt the older woman.

"But I also want what he wants. And I would never force him to go back home if he didn't want to."

Finally Mary looked at Anna.

Anna smiled. "Don't look so surprised, sweetheart. Marshall was…unexpected, and when he was born, we thought we were going to lose him. He was two months premature, and so small. But he was tough, and he proved all of those doctors wrong, just as he's doing right now. As he got older, he preferred books to sports, which disappointed his dad. Chris tormented him relentlessly."

A frown touched Mary's mouth at the idea of Marshall's older brother teasing him. She knew it was normal, but it ruffled her feathers.

"My point is, Mary, that I want Marshall to be happy. And if that means staying here with you, then I will support him completely." She knew her son well enough to know that he was taken with Mary, even if she didn't approve of it. Falling in love with a partner was a dangerous line to cross.

Mary studied Anna's face, searching for any signs of deception. But she found none. "Thank you, Anna," she finally murmured.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Anna wrapped her arm around Mary's shoulders. "We talked with Marshall's nurse before we came here. She said that they were going to remove a bullet fragment that his doctor missed."

"Yes, that's what they're trying to do. If it works, once the swelling subsides, they think he'll have a chance of walking again."

A relieved expression touched Anna's face. "Good."

Gently pulling away from Anna, Mary got up and stretched. "I'm going to step outside for a minute."

"Go ahead, sweetheart. We'll let you know if there's an update."

"Thanks." She cast an angry look at Christopher, who had the sense to look away. Then she walked out of the waiting room and out of the hospital, into the warmth of the afternoon sun.

* * *

Dominic was surprised when he saw Mary Shannon walk out of the hospital, but he quickly shook off the shock and smiled. She was making this all too easy.

He watched her walk around for a few minutes before going back into the hospital, and he made a note of it in the composition book that he always carried around. Then he resumed watching her, knowing that she would never recognize him.

"Hello, Mary."

* * *

Mary walked around in front of the hospital for a few minutes, absorbing the sunshine. She wanted to be with Marshall at all times, especially now that she was officially suspended. But she was realizing that she had to take the occasional break. Maybe next time she could pick up some pie and sneak it in to him. Pie always made things better.

A soft smile touched her lips as she thought of all the times she had shared pie with Marshall. Yes, she would have to get him some pie.

Suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she got the feeling that someone was watching her. Instinctively she began searching her surroundings, but she came up empty. Shivering slightly, she shook her head and headed back into the hospital.

* * *

Dominic watched Mary hurry back into the hospital, and he wondered what had spooked her. He knew that she hadn't seen him, but he wondered…

"Don't worry, Mary. You'll see me soon enough. Promise."

To Be Continued...

A/N: Uh oh, trouble is brewing! Hope everyone is enjoying this! Also, I put up a new poll on my profile to choose my next Mary/Marshall songfic. Be sure to stop by and vote. You can choose up to three different songs, so have fun! Thanks for reading, and please review!


	7. Torn

A shorter but intense chapter. Cliffhanger ahead. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

_I won't give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I'm giving you all my love_

_I'm still looking up_

-Jason Mraz, I Won't Give Up

The surgery lasted for a total of three hours. Once it was finished and Marshall was in Recovery, Reilly changed out of his scrubs, grabbed his patient's file, then made his way to the waiting room, where he knew his patient's family would be waiting. He was not wrong. When he stepped into the waiting room, he was immediately surrounded by Marshall's family.

But before anyone could get a word out, Mary spoke up, her voice loud and clear.

"Can I see him?"

Reilly met her eyes, the word no on his tongue. But then he remembered all the notes that Sheila had put in Marshall's file about the positive effect her presence seemed to have on him, and he changed his mind. "He's in Recovery right now. If you want…"

Before he could finish that sentence, Mary was out the door and hurrying down the hall.

Anna watched Mary disappear, and once she was gone, she looked at Dr. Reilly.

"How is he?"

Mary didn't stop until she reached Recovery, and she gave a bone-chilling look to the one nurse who tried to say anything to her. It didn't take long for her to find Marshall's bed, which was surrounded by different machines. Once again she was hit by the severity of his condition. There was still a chance that she could lose him. She reached out and took his hand. He had been placed on his side, and Mary could see the blood that stained the bandages covering his wounds.

As she squeezed his hand, he stirred and softly groaned. "Mary…"

"I'm here, Marshall."

His eyes opened slowly, glazed and confused. "What…?"

"Shh. You just came out of another surgery." With her free hand, she slowly brushed his damp hair back. "Close your eyes."

Sighing, he squeezed her hand lightly. "Stay," he slurred, his eyes already slipping shut again.

"There goes that bossiness again," she teased, and he smiled sleepily. After a few more seconds, his breathing was deep and even.

Mary stayed with him for a half hour, until Dr. Reilly returned.

"Ms. Shannon?"

Mary turned toward him, but didn't let go of Marshall's hand. "How is he?"

Reilly pulled up a chair and sat down beside Mary. "When we reopened the incision, we discovered two fragments, not one. We were able to remove them, but his blood pressure kept bottoming out. That was why it took so long. Once we were able to stabilize his blood pressure and get the bleeding under control, his condition improved."

She swallowed hard, almost afraid to ask the next question she had. "Will he… Is he going to walk again?"

Reilly sighed and rubbed his temple. "There was some damage done to his spinal cord, but the extensive swelling around the area made it hard to determine how much damage was done. Once the swelling goes down, we'll perform another CAT scan. By then, we should know definitively."

"How long will that take?"

"Anywhere between three days and a week."

Mary absorbed that piece of information slowly.

In a week, either everything would be right again, or nothing would ever be the same.

* * *

Within the hour, Marshall was moved from Recovery, back to his room in the Intensive Care Unit. Mary had asked Reilly when Marshall would be moved to a private room, but he had insisted that that wouldn't be for another week, at least. Mary had accepted it with reluctance, simply grateful that the I.C.U.'s strict visitation policy had been broken for her. She couldn't stand the thought of Marshall being alone when he was at his most vulnerable. And as his partner, Mary was determined to look out for him.

The orderlies lifted Marshall into his bed and made him comfortable, and Mary watched as Sheila took Marshall's vitals.

Satisfied that Marshall was comfortable and stable, Sheila offered Mary a smile. "You're not leaving tonight, are you?"

Mary shook her head.

"I figured as much. I'll have a cot brought up here."

"Thank you…"

Sheila gave her another smile before stepping out of the room. The orderlies followed close behind.

Once again alone with her wounded partner, Mary sat down by his bed and let out an exhausted breath.

"Okay, Marshall."

She paused, not knowing how to continue that sentence. Finally she just took his and held it gently.

When had they ever needed words?

* * *

His back was on fire, and his chest throbbed as Marshall slowly regained consciousness. For a moment, he considered returning to the sweet, pain free bliss of unconsciousness, but he wanted to see Mary more than he wanted to avoid the pain. So he breathed as deeply as he could, then slowly opened his weary eyes.

A cot had been brought in for Mary to sleep on, but she wasn't in it. Instead she was curled up in her chair, her arms around herself and a deep frown marring her face as she slept.

Marshall blinked slowly in an attempt to clear his vision. A nurse had kindly situated him on his side, so the pain wasn't as bad as it could have been.

"No…stop…"

At the desperate plea, Marshall looked at Mary again. Her eyes were still closed, but she moved restlessly in her sleep. "Mare?"

Twisting in the chair, Mary called out again. "Marshall!"

Now he was worried. Grunting softly, Marshall pushed himself up on his elbow. Then he reached out to her. She had pushed her chair close enough to the bed that he could reach her, and he closed his hand gently around her wrist. "Mary, wake up." His voice was gravelly. "Open your eyes."

He squeezed her gently, and her eyes suddenly flew open. It took a moment for her surroundings to register in her mind, but when they did, she let out a slow, uneasy breath.

Marshall watched her intently. "You okay?" he murmured, his eyes reflecting his deep concern.

She leaned forward in her chair, her hand settling over his where it was still wrapped around her wrist. "I should be asking you that." Gently removing his hand from her wrist, she clasped his hand between both of her hands. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a minute." The feeling of his hand between hers was new and…addicting. The look on her face was one he'd never seen before.

Mary nodded, glancing at her watch. "Damn…" It was after midnight, and her back ached miserably.

He recognized the look on her face. "Go home," he said gently.

"What? No…" She still didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone for any period of time.

Marshall smiled and squeezed her hand. "You're exhausted, Mare. Go home for a few hours and get some sleep in your own bed."

"Marshall…"

"I'm serious." Then, much to Mary's surprise, he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "I'll probably sleep until you get back."

Shocked by the tender gesture, she was unable to speak for several moments. When she finally was able to form a coherent thought, she managed, "Okay… just a few hours."

He could tell that was a big concession on her part. "Good." He yawned deeply, returning his head to the pillow. The short conversation had taken a lot out of him, and he could feel sleep threatening to claim him again.

Getting to her feet, Mary leaned over and tucked a blanket around him. Then she kissed his forehead lightly. "You're exhausted, Doofus. Go to sleep, and I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Take your time," he mumbled, his eyes sliding shut.

She smiled and gently smoothed his hair back before placing another kiss on his cheek. When had she become so comfortable touching and kissing him this way? Before she could drive herself crazy with questions, she stepped back from his side. "Good night, Marshall."

"Night, Mare…"

Before she reached the door, he was sleeping peacefully. She smiled and walked out of the I.C.U. room, stopping to speak with a nurse briefly before she left the hospital.

* * *

Elizabeth Barns was the primary nurse on duty in the I.C.U., and she was a little surprised when Mary Shannon came out of Marshall Mann's room and told her that she was leaving for the night. All kinds of exceptions were made for law enforcement, and when Marshall Mann had been brought in, Mary Shannon had parked herself in the room with him and barely left. There was a bet going on with several of the nurses, since Marshall wasn't listed as married or even engaged, but Mary was his listed N.O.K., that something was going on between the two of them. So far, the pot was up to two hundred dollars. Elizabeth smiled. Where there were bored nurses, trouble was sure to ensue.

She looked up at the clock a short while after Mary left. The protective detail that had been placed outside of Marshall's room was about to change. Their presence had become a somewhat expected sight, and Elizabeth felt a bit safer knowing they were there.

A few minutes later, the protective detail left, and Elizabeth was just settling in to do some paperwork when an alarm sounded down the hall. For the next ten minutes, she was the only nurse on duty, so she quickly got up and hurried down the hall to check on her patient.

* * *

Dominic smiled as he watched Elizabeth hurry to check on another patient. He adjusted the white jacket he wore and strode confidently toward Marshall's room. Mary would be in there, and for the hell of it, he would take out Marshall, too. His mouth curved into a smile. He could even do Marshall in front of Mary, just to torture her before he took her out, too.

He slipped into the I.C.U. room, but he frowned when he only saw Marshall in the bed. He searched the room, but Mary was nowhere to be found.

Growling quietly, he pulled out a syringe and injected it into Marshall's I.V. to make sure he wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Then he produced a long, sharp knife, admiring the gleam of the blade.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

Mary was just getting into her car when she suddenly felt unnerved, and she glanced back at the hospital. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Marshall was less than twelve hours out of surgery, and his condition was still critical. The reasonable side of her told her that he was perfectly safe; there was a guard outside of his door at all times, and no one outside of his family and herself was allowed in the room. Still…

She argued with herself for a while before she finally got out of the car and hurried back toward the hospital. She could go home tomorrow and sleep, when Anna and Seth were at the hospital and Marshall wouldn't be alone.

A cool blast of air greeted her as she walked back into the hospital, and she stopped for a lousy cup of sludge that they had the nerve to call coffee. Then she hurried back up to the Intensive Care Unit. Hopefully Marshall would still be asleep so she could sneak back into his room without him chastising her for not going home.

Elizabeth wasn't at the nurse's station when Mary walked by, and she assumed that another patient needed to be tended to. That was the terrible thing about the Intensive Care Unit. Many people came in, but not nearly as many left alive. She shuddered. Marshall would leave. He had to. She heard shouting down the hall, making her heart drop. A flat line shortly followed.

Shivering, Mary ducked into Marshall's room. The lights were still off. She left them off so that Marshall wouldn't be disturbed. But as she came deeper into the room, she realized that something was seriously wrong.

Someone was standing over Marshall, but the white coat didn't offset her concerns. "Hey! What are you doing?"

Dominic turned toward her, and Mary saw the glint of a very large knife. It was aimed at Marshall. With a swear, she whipped out her gun and pointed it at him.

He just smiled. "Hello, Mary. So glad you could join us."

"Who the fuck are you?" Her hand gripped the gun tightly. She had turned in her primary piece to Stan after he suspended her, but she just started carrying her own piece.

"That doesn't really matter." He stepped closer to Marshall's bed, rubbing the handle of the knife with his thumb.

Mary's mind was in overdrive trying to place him, but she came up with nothing. All her mind cold focus on was the fact that her wounded partner was in danger. "Get away from him." Her words came out in a low, dangerous growl.

"I don't think you're in a position to be making demands."

"You're threatening two U.S. marshals, and I will not hesitate to put a bullet in your brain."

He chuckled. "I don't doubt it. The question is, just how fast are you, marshal?"

Mary's concern grew even more when Marshall didn't stir at the voices. He was breathing, but something was definitely wrong. "I'm pretty damn fast."

He finally stepped away from Marshall and headed toward Mary. Mary felt relief wash over her. As long as she could keep him away from Marshall, she would make sure everything turned out okay for him. "What do you want?"

"You," Dominic said simply.

As the moonlight washed over him, it suddenly hit her. He was in the tapes of the funeral and the shooting at the crime scene. A knot formed in her stomach. He was the one who had nearly killed Marshall.

He smiled. "Finally figuring it out, marshal?"

"You shot him," she hissed.

"He wasn't my target. He just got in the way." He nodded toward her arm. "How's your shoulder feeling?"

Her stomach sank. "You were trying to kill me." Her voice sounded unnaturally calm, even to her.

"Yes. And your poor partner got in the way. How does it feel, knowing you're the reason he's here?"

Mary shook his head. "No. You pulled the trigger. You put him here. And I'm going to put you in the fucking ground."

Dominic reached into his jacket, and the sounds of gunfire raced down the hall. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

And all was silent.

To Be Continued...

A/N: *hides* Please review, and don't forget to vote for my next Mary/Marshall songfic! Remember, you can vote for up to three songs! Have fun!


	8. Smoked

I'm sorry I wasn't able to update this sooner, but real life has been kicking my butt! This chapter is a bit shorter, but hopefully the fluff will make up for that. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

_I will risk everything_

_I will fight, I will bleed_

_I will lay down my life_

_If that's what you need_

_Every second I live_

_That's the promise I make_

_Baby, that's what I'll give _

_If that's what it takes_

-Celine Dion, If That's What It Takes

* * *

Elizabeth was coming down the hall when she heard the gunshots, and she ran to the nearest phone and called for security. But the protective detail that had been assigned to Marshall Mann's room arrived first, and she hurriedly explained to them what she had heard. They rushed into Marshall's room, and she followed them.

"Oh, no…"

There was a man lying on the floor, a large pool of blood beneath him. A neat hole in his forehead oozed blood, permeating her nose as she fumbled for the light. Finally artificial light flooded the room, allowing her to see Mary as well. The blond woman was sitting on the floor, leaned back against the wall. Her hand was clutching her shoulder as blood slowly stained her shirt.

Elizabeth wasted no time in kneeling down beside Mary. "Mary, can you hear me?" She gently pried Mary's hand away, so she could see the wound.

Mary finally stirred, her face pale. "Marshall…"

"Shh… Marshall is okay."

Suddenly Mary tensed, and she stumbled to her feet. Their attacker was on the floor, his eyes frozen and his mouth open in a silent scream. Fueled by rage and remaining adrenaline, she staggered over to his body, hesitating a moment before delivering a brutal kick to his head. Then she went to Marshall's side and studied his face. "He gave Marshall something, something that kept him unconscious."

Elizabeth joined Mary and began checking Marshall's vitals. "I'll run a tox screen on him. But we need to get you down to the E.R."

"No." A wave of nausea hit her when Mary shook her head. "No. I'm not leaving him."

"Mary, you need to be checked out."

Mary gave her a scathing look before dropping into the chair by Marshall's bed. The pain radiated through her shoulder, but it was overshadowed by her concern for her partner. She reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing tightly and hoping for a squeeze in response. There was none, and her heart began beating even harder. The newest assault on her body had left her drained and dizzy, but she fought her body's need to stop and rest.

Elizabeth watched Mary with concern. She could only push herself so far before she collapsed. And when she did finally collapse, it wouldn't be pretty. As cops finally flooded the small room, Elizabeth kept a careful eye on Mary. Just a few minutes later, Mary finally passed out. Relieved, Elizabeth gave the orders to have Marshall moved to another I.C.U. room, and Mary was taken downstairs to the E.R.

She gave her own statement about what she heard, but she knew that it wouldn't be much help. The body on the I.C.U. floor, and the newest assaults on Mary and Marshall were hopefully proof enough.

* * *

Stan made it up to the hospital within a half hour of the shooting. He was allowed to check on Marshall, but Mary had been taken into surgery. He was going to have his hands full when she awoke after surgery. After this newest attack, nothing short of sedatives would keep Mary from her partner's side.

He spoke with the responding officers and watched as the body was removed from the I.C.U. room. At least this nightmare was finally over. Marshall and Mary would be safe, as well as the other police officers who had survived the prior shootings.

The shooter was positively identified as Dominic Senser, a loser who had been arrested multiple times for murder, but had never been convicted. It seemed that anytime there was a witness, somehow that witness disappeared or came down with a bad case of amnesia. There was no physical evidence, and even though it was known he had done it, there was no proof, and he was always released. But this time, there would be no jury or lack of witnesses. Just a single bullet from the gun of a marshal determined to protect the life of her partner.

Stan knew that Mary would be in trouble for having a gun and using it after he'd suspended her, but he would make sure that she was shielded from the worst of the punishment. She had protected her partner, and he was proud of her, as he almost always was.

His phone buzzing at his hip caught his attention, and he sighed as he retrieved it.

"Here we go…"

* * *

Mary was in surgery for less than two hours and didn't even need a stay in the intensive care unit. Instead she was transferred to a regular room and kept under sedation, because all of the medical staff knew the situation that had occurred several hours ago. Her doctor wanted her to rest, because she obviously had not been doing that since the first time she was shot, so he decided to help her rest. The sooner she did, the sooner her body could begin healing and recovering, which was exactly what he wanted. It only briefly crossed his mind that there would be hell to pay for it once Mary did wake up.

* * *

Stan spent the following two days rushing back and forth between the office, press calls, and Mary and Marshall's hospital rooms. Marshall's family stayed with him, but his parents also took turns visiting with Mary. She was still unconscious, but her doctor had assured Stan that he was purposefully keeping her asleep, to help her body heal. Stan had reluctantly agreed that it was best, even though he knew what hell was coming once she was awake again.

Jinx and Brandi also visited; Brandi more so than Jinx. Brandi knew her sister better than even Mary realized, and she had begun packing her things, knowing full well that Mary wouldn't even give Marshall a choice in where he would stay once he was released. Brandi could almost see how things would play out, and she was happy for her older sister. For too long, Mary had taken care of everyone else in her life, bearing the weight of her world on her shoulders with no help. Now she would have someone to take care of her for a chance, something that she desperately needed even if she didn't know that she needed it.

Marshall awoke briefly Saturday night, just long enough to call out for Mary. Then sleep claimed him again. Anna had been with him when he called out, and it broke her heart. When she and Seth had gotten the call that there had been another shooting, it was déjà vu all over again. She barely remembered the ride back to the hospital, but once they were there, they had been reassured that Marshall was going to be fine. He had been given a cocktail of sedatives, but the dosage was not lethal. Mary had shot the man who was going to kill Marshall, getting herself shot again in the process. But her doctor was also confident that she was going to be fine. Anna found that she had another reason to love Mary. Once again, she had put herself in harm's way to protect Marshall, and she had succeeded. Anna was quickly growing to love Mary.

On Sunday, Marshall woke again. He was tired and groggy, and the first thing he realized as the fog lifted was that Mary was not with him. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know this. He could just feel her presence, or lack thereof. He knew her scent, knew her voice and sounds, and he missed her desperately.

Anna was sitting beside her son's bed, her hand holding tightly to his. Seth had gone back to the hotel for a shower, but Anna didn't want to leave Marshall, especially when Mary couldn't be there to relieve her. She knew her son well enough to know that he wasn't going to handle her absence well. And she was right.

Marshall stirred restlessly, uncomfortable and longing to see his partner's face. "Mary?"

Anna stood up and leaned over her son, her expression one of comfort. "Mary isn't here right now, sweetheart. Settle down…"

His brilliant blue eyes opened and scanned the room. "Where is she?" he murmured, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

She bit her lower lip, hesitant to answer his question. As far as she knew, Mary was still under sedation downstairs.

Marshall studied his mother intently. "Mom…"

Finally she gave up and sighed. "Mary is in a room downstairs."

His heart rate picked up. "What? Why?"

"She was shot."

She regretted saying anything a few moments later, when the meaning of her words sank in and Marshall tried to push himself into a sitting position. "Marshall, honey, calm down."

Marshall removed the oxygen cannula from under his nose. "What happened to Mary, Mom?" he demanded anxiously.

"Marshall…"

"Mom!"

"She was shot, honey. But she's going to be okay," she added quickly when she saw fresh panic alight her son's eyes. "I promise you, she's going to be fine. She was shot in the shoulder. She's going to be fine."

Marshall barely heard her. Panic was overwhelming him again, and he felt his tenuous grip on consciousness begin to slip again. His head fell back against the pillows.

"Marshall!" Anna took her son's hand again as medical staff flooded the room. She was pushed aside, unable to do anything but watch helplessly.

"Marshall…"

* * *

Shortly after Marshall's awakening and subsequent panic attack, Anna found herself downstairs, heading toward Mary's room. But as she was walking, she spotted a familiar face.

"Dr. Reilly!"

Steven Reilly turned to see the mother of one of his patients rushing toward him. "Yes, Mrs. Mann?"

"I need to speak with you. It's very important…"

* * *

The next time Marshall awoke, he felt as though a thick cloud was wrapped around his head, and he recognized the residual effects of sedatives. He remembered speaking with his mother, being told that Mary had been shot… Mary…

His breathing must have changed, because he felt a familiar hand on his arm.

Anna watched her son intently. "Marshall? Honey, can you hear me?"

With a great reluctance, he finally opened his eyes. His surroundings were unfamiliar.

Squeezing his hand gently, Anna brought her son's attention back to her. "You were moved to a private room downstairs, honey." It had taken a lot of pleading and threatening on her part, but finally she was able to convince Dr. Reilly to have Marshall moved to a private room. He still needed constant care, but this was the better arrangement. She knew her boy and what was best for him.

Marshall heaved a weary sigh and let his eyes slide shut. Mary still wasn't there with him. What if his mother had told her that she was in a different room, just so he wouldn't have to deal with the cold hard truth yet? What if Mary was gone? His fingers curled into a fist at the thought. Mary couldn't be dead.

"Marshall, listen to me, sweetheart. Open your eyes." Anna's voice was firm, but loving, and finally he looked at her again. She smiled tenderly and motioned to the other side of the room. Slowly his gaze followed her hand.

"Mary…"

There was a second bed just a few feet away, and in it was Mary. A huge weight flew off of his shoulders as he watched her sleep.

Anna smiled at her son's reaction. "I was able to convince both of your doctors that putting you two in the same room would be beneficial for you both." Stan had been surprised when she had approached him with the idea, but he had quickly gotten onboard with it. Mary had been awake once, and she had quickly been sedated again when she woke up agitated and calling for Marshall, just as Marshall had called for her. They shouldn't have been separated in the first place. At least, that was what Anna believed.

A soft, relieved smile touched Marshall's lips. "Thank you, Mom." His words were heartfelt. Mary was alive, and he could see her. He wouldn't allow anyone to separate them again.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." She stood up and softly kissed the top of her son's head. "Are you going to be okay if I go to the hotel for a shower and a nap?"

He nodded, still unable to take his eyes off of his sleeping partner. "Of course, Mom. Go get some rest. I'll be fine."

Anna couldn't help chuckling softly. "I know you will be." He was with Mary again.

They would both be fine.

* * *

Several hours after Anna left, Mary finally stirred.

Marshall was flipping through a book that his mother left when a noise from Mary's side of the room caught his attention. He put the book down and turned his head toward her. "Mary?"

Mary groaned softly, lifting her hand to her head. "Marshall?"

He almost cried his relief at the sound of her voice. "I'm here, Mare."

She turned over in the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

The sound of his voice was deeply comforting to her, and suddenly the five feet that separated them was too much for her to tolerate. With a stifled groan, she pushed herself upright in the bed. Then she eased herself to her feet, giving herself long enough to adjust before she began to shuffle forward.

Marshall heard her move, and he frowned. "Mare, what are you doing? Stay in your bed."

"Shut up," she snapped as she moved slowly and carefully across the floor.

He fell silent and watched as she crossed the floor. When she reached his bed, he extended a hand and wrapped it firmly around her wrist. "What are you doing?"

"You know exactly what I'm doing, Doofus." With a soft grunt, she sat down beside him on the bed.

Marshall watched her intently, not entirely sure what to make of her sudden need to be close to him. Not that he was complaining. He _liked_ the closeness and the intimacy it allowed, and more than once he had initiated it. But this was the first time she had.

Pulling her legs up on the bed, Mary settled in next to Marshall and eased her uninjured arm around him. She could see the questions in his eyes, and eventually they would have to be answered. But for now, it was just the two of them and quenching the undeniable need to be close to him. It was new and frightening, but there was no stopping it.

Marshall didn't hesitate to rest his head against her shoulder. For the moment, it was just the two of them. Nothing outside of their room existed. No gunmen, no crimes needing to be solved… nothing.

Mary made both of them comfortable and tightened her arm around Marshall. Neither of them were questioning the contact; it was exactly what they both needed. They drew comfort and strength from it.

No words were spoken, because none were needed.

Anna stepped back into the room an hour later and was treated to a touching sight. Mary had climbed into Marshall's bed, and now they were both sleeping peacefully. Mary's arm was wrapped protectively, almost possessively, around Marshall. Marshall had his head on Mary's shoulder. Both looked happy and relaxed, something that Anna hadn't seen in far too long.

Smiling to herself, Anna stepped back out of the room, leaving Mary and Marshall to continue sleeping in peace.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Yay, Mary and Marshall are together again! I also saw a video of Frederick Weller discussing Marshall, and he confirmed that Marshall was in love with Mary. So I felt inspired. Hopefully the next chapter of this will be up faster, but the muse is evil... Thanks for reading, and please review!


	9. Words and Deeds

An update! I think that this will be the last chapter, followed by an epilogue, unless someone gives me a fantastic idea. LOL. I've really enjoyed writing this little story, and I think there will be a sequel coming after this. I know that I glossed over a lot of the criminal element in this, but if you're a fan of my other works, you know that this is my M.O. LOL. And those of you who don't know, well, you know now. LMAO. So read on, enjoy the new chapter, and please remember to review!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

_When I'm a bullet shot out of a gun_

_When I'm a firecracker coming undone_

_When I'm a fugitive ready to run_

_All wide eyed and crazy_

_No matter where my reckless soul takes me_

_Baby, you save me_

-Kenny Chesney, You Save Me

Mary and Marshall remained asleep for hours, tangled up together. None of the medical staff had the heart to separate them, so the nurses tried to stay out of the room. But when they had to go in, they were careful not to disturb the sleeping couple.

It wasn't until early the following morning that Mary finally stirred. Her vision was blurry as she opened her eyes. She yawned and rested her head against Marshall's. She had slept better the previous night than she had in months, and she attributed it to her partner.

Marshall also stirred as Mary yawned. The wounds in his back were painful, and he couldn't help burrowing further into Mary's arms. He wasn't sure when Mary would come to her senses and put a stop to all of this physical affection, but he planned on taking advantage of it for as long as he could.

Mary looked down at her partner. "Are you awake?" she whispered.

He nuzzled his face against her shoulder. "Yeah…"

"Good." She absently rested her head against his. "I need to talk to you."

"What about?"

Her hand came up and absently trailed along his arm. "If it's true…what are you planning to do?"

He knew exactly what she was talking about, and her unsettled tone bothered him. "I'm not sure yet."

This was it, now or never… "Whatever you want to do, Marshall, I'll support your decision."

That was not what he expected to hear. He craned his head so that he could see her eyes. "You will?"

"Of course I will." She gave him a soft smile. "If you want to go to Texas with your family… then I'll transfer out there."

His cerulean eyes widened with surprise. "What?"

"Marshall, you're my partner and my best friend. My only friend. I'm not going to stay here just so Stan can partner me up with some wide-eyed ingénue that doesn't understand the concept of personal boundaries. Forget it."

"I couldn't ask you to uproot your whole life…"

She let out a bitter laugh. "What life? And you're not asking." He wasn't that kind of man. Even if his life depended on it, he would never ask her to change her life to accommodate his. So she would have to do it. "It's my choice. If you decide to go to Texas, then I'm going, too."

He was stunned. For years, their partnership and friendship had largely revolved around her wants and needs, and he had been okay with that. But now she seemed determined to make it about him, and he wasn't sure how to respond to that. "But…"

"No buts, Marshall. You're stuck with me."

A soft smile touched his lips. That was the best threat he had heard in a long time. He yawned, still very weak from the injuries he had sustained protecting Mary. That was one thing he could never regret doing, taking those bullets to save her life. Even if it meant spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair, it was worth it.

Mary gently smoothed her hand over his hair. "You're still tired. Close your eyes."

He sighed. "I don't want to sleep… I want to talk to you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Doofus. Close your eyes and get some sleep. I need you to heal before I can kick your ass for taking three bullets for me."

A soft chuckle escaped him. "I'd do it again."

"I know you would." She took a chance and lightly kissed his head. "Sleep."

"Mm…" Sleep claimed him within seconds, leaving Mary alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Seth, Anna, Chris and Michael returned to Marshall's hospital room. Since he had been moved into a private room, there were less restrictions on who could visit and how many visitors he could have at a time, so the four decided to visit him together and see how he was doing.

They were quiet as they slipped into the room, but as it turned out, they didn't need to be. Marshall was sitting up in his bed, supported by a multitude of soft pillows. Mary was sitting beside him, looking quite comfortable as well, and they were both eating what looked to be cherry jell-o.

Marshall spotted his family first, and his pale face lit up. "Hi, Mom…"

Anna rushed across the floor and gently pulled her youngest son into her arms. "Hi, baby…" She was mindful of his injuries, and she could feel Mary's intense gaze on her. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. The drugs make my head a little fuzzy…"

"But it's better than the pain," Mary concluded as Anna pulled away.

Seth walked across the floor next and took his son's hand, squeezing it roughly. "Looks like you have good company here."

Marshall smiled. "I do." Just as she had promised, Mary had been there when he awoke again after his unexpected nap.

Michael finally approached his brother's bed. "You're not as talkative as you normally are, so you haven't scared her off."

Mary snorted at that. "His talking doesn't scare me."

"Nothing scares you, Mare."

At his words, she looked away and took another bite of her jell-o. That was where he was completely wrong. Plenty of things scared her, and losing him was at the top of that list. Before she met Marshall, her life had been all about her and taking care of her mother and sister. And her job, of course. But after she was partnered with him, and especially after he was nearly killed by a loser posing as a witness, things between them had changed. _She_ had changed, as clichéd as that sounded. It was the truth. As much as she tormented and teased her partner, she was also the first to protect him and fight for him. She wasn't convinced that he believed her when she said she would go to Texas for him, but she was dead serious. After all, what did she have here, other than him? An alcoholic mother and co-dependant sister, both dependant on Mary to rescue them from bad situations on what seemed like a weekly basis. There was also her job, but without Marshall, it was just that. A job. And she wasn't prepared to let him go without a fight.

Marshall noticed Mary's sudden introversion, but he didn't say anything. He would talk to her later about it, though he suspected he already knew what was bothering her. He turned his attention to his family.

Anna glanced at Mary, then back at her son. "You look better, honey." Extending her hand, she smoothed it gently through his hair. "We were all so worried about you."

Marshall smiled softly. "I know you were, but I'm going to be fine." He nodded toward one of the empty chairs by his bed. "Please, sit down, Mom. I want to talk to all of you."

Curious, she took the chair nearest to him and sat down.

Seth took the other empty chair, and Michael stood behind him, while Christopher remained close to the door.

Without consciously thinking, Marshall reached out and touched Mary's arm, seeking comfort from the mutual contact. Mary looked at him with interest. "Dr. Reilly hasn't told me whether or not I'll walk again, and he won't be able to tell me until after another CAT scan."

"Sweetheart, you're going to get better…"

Marshall cut his mother off. "Mom, there is no guarantee that I'm going to walk again." He had already come to terms with that. He had to be realistic, or else he would eventually crash and burn. There was a chance that he would recover completely, but there was also the chance that he would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. His grip tightened slightly on Mary's arm.

Mary took that as her cue to step in. "As his family, I know it must be hard for you all to think about the fact that he might not walk again. But it's a very real possibility."

Chris finally stepped into the conversation, his arms crossed over his chest and a resolute look on his face. "Which is why you should come home with us, Marshall."

A look of contempt and anger crossed Mary's face, taking Marshall by surprise. What had happened between Mary and his family while he was unconscious? Hoping to calm her, Marshall ran his thumb lightly over her skin. Then he looked at his oldest brother. "Chris, whatever happens, I can make decisions for myself." Ever since he was young, Chris had influenced many of Marshall's decisions, and had seen himself as a protector. But Marshall could take care of himself, even though he knew that his family only had his best interests at heart.

Mary looked at Anna and Seth. "If _Marshall_ decides to go back to Texas with you, I'll request a transfer and go with him."

All four looked stunned by the revelation, but Anna was the quickest to recover. "Are you sure about that, Mary?"

"Why would you do that? I thought you and my brother were just friends." Chris gave her a disarming look.

"He's my best friend," Mary confirmed as Marshall tried to gather his thoughts. "I would do anything for him. And honestly, I don't trust anyone else with him."

Chris' frown deepened. "Not even his family?"

"No."

Sensing that his son was losing his hold on his temper again, Seth spoke up. "Marshall, what do you want?"

All eyes turned to Marshall, who had become pale and uncomfortable.

Anna reached out and touched his cheek. "Marshall?"

"I think…" He swallowed hard, struggling with himself. "I think you should all go back to the hotel for a while."

"Are you sure, son?" Seth asked gently.

"Yeah… I'm sure."

Seth stood up and helped his wife to her feet. Then he motioned to his two older sons. "Let's go."

Anna hesitated. "Okay, sweetheart. But call us if you need anything at all." She leaned over and kissed Marshall's cheek lightly.

He leaned into her for just a moment before withdrawing again. "I will, Mom."

She gently brushed his hair back, then stepped away from the bed.

Seth squeezed his son's shoulder before ushering Anna, Chris and Michael out of the room.

Once they were alone again, Mary turned toward Marshall. "What was that about?"

He inhaled slowly, his face void of any color. His chest was constricting, and he could feel his heart racing. "I don't… I need…"

"Marshall?" She turned fully toward him and gently took his face into her hand. "Marshall, what is it? Tell me what's going on."

A nurse suddenly hurried into the room as the monitors went wild. She gently brushed Mary's hands away and retrieved an oxygen mask. She secured it over Marshall's face and began checking his pulse.

Mary looked terrified. "What's wrong with him?" she demanded, disguising her concern with anger, as she was so apt to do.

"He's having a panic attack," the nurse explained, her tone just a bit too calm for Mary.

"A panic attack?" Mary watched Marshall's face intently. His eyes were closed, and his chest heaved as he greedily took in the fresh oxygen.

"It's not unusual, especially given his situation. He'll be fine in a couple of minutes."

Mary barely heard her. All of her attention was focused on Marshall.

Finally his heart rate began returning to normal. The nurse did not remove his oxygen mask. Instead she continued to talk to him, keeping her voice soft and soothing. It took a little while longer, but eventually he started to come around again.

His chest ached and his eyes burned as he slowly came back to the present, and he became very aware of a familiar body pressed against his. Instinctively he inched closer to her.

Mary studied his features intently. "Marshall? Can you hear me?"

Slowly he nodded.

The nurse gave an approving look. "Marshall, you just had a panic attack. I need you to keep the oxygen mask on for a little while, until you calm down. Do you understand me?"

He nodded again.

"Good."

Mary laid her hand against Marshall's cheek again, feeling the stubble that rubbed harshly against her skin. The thought that he needed a shave occurred to her out of nowhere. "You scared me," she whispered, the words flowing out of her mouth before she could stop them. When did anything ever scare her? She had been abandoned by her father as a child, and she had been taking care of her mother and younger sister ever since. Nothing really scared her anymore…nothing except Marshall.

He leaned into her hand and closed his eyes, reveling in her comforting touch. Before this had happened, he would have never believed she would drop everything to follow him to Texas. But ever since he had woken up, and especially after he realized that he could not feel anything from the waist down, Mary had barely left his side. She had proven over and over again that she was going to stay by his side, and that was more than he could ask for, or ever repay. It suddenly hit him just how much she meant to him, and all of the feelings that he had fought so hard to hide from her came bubbling up to the surface. She was everything to him. He had known how he felt about her for so long; what man wouldn't love her? But because they were partners, he couldn't have her. Now the very possible truth was that he would never be a marshal again, but he would be free to love her. Was it worth it?

Of course.

Mary saw the look in his eye, and the intensity of it made her heart jump. But she kept her hand on his cheek, and for the longest time, they simply sat there. Skin on skin, eye to eye, heart to heart.

* * *

Drained of any energy, Marshall fell asleep shortly after his panic attack, much to Mary's relief. His panic attack and the subsequent touching that followed had her reeling. Once she was certain he was deeply asleep, she slipped off of the bed and sat down in the chair beside him, her mind buzzing anxiously.

Something between them had shifted. That much was obvious. But was she really ready to step into any kind of relationship with Marshall? He was the perfect son, the perfect (or the closest thing to it that she could ask for) partner, an amazing friend, and one day he would make the greatest husband. She knew that she loved him, but did she love him in a way that would enable her to be there for him for the rest of their lives? Could she see herself married to him in thirty or even ten years? Could she be everything that he needed, everything that he deserved? Could she put him before herself all day, every day, for the rest of her life?

Sighing quietly, she leaned forward and cradled her head in her hand, watching his passive face intently.

"What have I gotten myself into, Marshall?"

* * *

That evening, Mary reluctantly stepped out of Marshall's room and discharged herself, against her doctor's orders. She had lost some blood, but the pain in her arm was a welcome one. After only a short argument, Mary won and filled out the necessary paperwork, absolving the hospital of any responsibility for her. Then she left the building and went around the corner for a decent cup of coffee and something to eat.

Marshall was still asleep when Mary finally returned to the room. She was tired and unsettled after leaving him, something she didn't fully understand. When did that start happening?

She was pulled away from her thoughts when Marshall suddenly jerked in his bed. A pained cry tore out of his throat, causing Mary to drop everything and rush to his side.

"Marshall?" She leaned over and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Marshall…"

He twisted again, his brow furrowed and his fists clenched. He muttered something that sounded like, "No, stop…" followed by her name.

"Marshall. You're having a nightmare. Wake up." She gently squeezed his shoulder, slowly applying more pressure.

Finally his eyes flew open, and there was a look of terror in them. Mary froze.

"Mary…" Without hesitation, he reached up and flung his arm around her, pulling her down against himself. Then he buried his nose in her shoulder.

Pressed so tightly against him, she could feel the violent shudders that rippled through his slim body.

"Mary…"

Her good arm snaked around him, returning his fierce embrace. She didn't try to reassure him, or even speak. She just held him and let him cry into her shoulder.

After a while, his sobs subsided into breathy sighs, and his trembling had almost subsided. Mary had no idea what had brought on his nightmare, and she felt inadequate for being unable to stop it or even to know the right words to comfort him.

"Mary?"

She was surprised by the meek voice. "What is it, Marshall?"

"What if… I never walk again?"

She didn't dare say that he didn't know that, he might walk again. He was a man who was always prepared, and he needed that now more than ever. "Then you won't walk again. But you'll still be you, Marshall." With a soft grunt, she sat down on the bed with him. He continued to cling to her, avoiding her eyes. "You'll either stay here and find a new job, or we'll go to Texas so you can be closer to your family."

Her use of the word we did not go unnoticed by Marshall. "We?"

"Of course, Doofus. I already told you, you're stuck with me. Whatever happens, I'll be here." She wasn't the best with words or feelings, but she was honest. They both knew that if she made a promise, she would die before she broke it. "I promise." Her fingers began playing with his thick hair. "If you don't want to go to Texas, I'll kick Jinx and Brandi out, and you can take one of my spare bedrooms. Either way, you're not going to be alone, Marshall."

That soothed him more than she would ever know. "Thanks…"

"Don't thank me, Marshall." He would have done the exact thing for her. He had already taken three bullets to save her life. She wasn't about to let him think that he was going to be alone, even for a little while.

"I still want to," he whispered.

"Fine. You can thank me with some pie when you get out of here." She smiled down at him. "Deal?"

He smiled softly.

"Deal."

* * *

After Marshall's emotional firestorm, Mary didn't leave the hospital that night. The nurses weren't surprised, and several of them couldn't help wondering why she had bothered discharging herself, only to stay in the hospital. In the end, they didn't question it. Most had learned to avoid asking her questions, or getting too close to Marshall. Mary was fiercely protective of him, and a dangerous force to be reckoned with. Marshall was very sweet and kind, but not very talkative, which was understood. His doctor knew he would need to speak with a professional to sort through the pain and confusion currently running rampant in his head, not to mention all of the changes associated with the upheaval he had been forced through. It wasn't very fair, but then again, life rarely was.

Mary was settling in for the night. She had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and she was eyeing the second bed with distaste. Her mind was weighing the pros and cons of sleeping in that bed, as opposed to climbing into bed with Marshall. He wouldn't mind, and truth be told, neither would she.

She was just about to move when Marshall cracked an eye open.

"Are you coming over here or not?"

Mary tried to scowl, but it gave way to a smile. "Cocky bastard."

"Of course. Though I'm not a bastard in the technical sense, since my parents _were_ married for fifteen years before I was born…"

"Shut up." She made her way over to his bed and lifted herself onto it, taking care not to jostle Marshall.

As she settled in beside him, Marshall grinned. In spite of all the uncertainty in his present and future, there was one constant he knew would always be there. Mary.

Mary made herself comfortable, but as she did, she bumped Marshall's leg. She didn't say anything and didn't really think about it until she saw the look on Marshall's face. "Marshall? Are you okay?"

He grasped her arm, and the words that came out of his mouth floored Mary.

"Mary… I _felt _that!"

To Be Continued...

A/N: YAY! As I said earlier, unless I get a fantastic idea, the epilogue will be the last of this little story. Thanks so much for reading, and please review!


	10. Epilogue: You're My Home

It seems we have come to the end of the road for my very first In Plain Sight full length story. I'm sad that it's done, but I'm proud of myself for actually finishing it (those of you who know me know I have a tendency to start and not finish. LOL). I had a lot of fun writing it, and I thought it was only fitting to use a Billy Joel song for the final chapter. Hope everyone has enjoyed this as much as I have.

A very fond thank you to all who have reviewed: **Autumn Rayne, AbbyAndLivSnigglebottom, Jekka, Whyte Board Marker, JMS529, JJ2008, BrittanyLS, moonchild712, Sparky She-Demon, pink callily, Jdragonfire29, and blueberry55**. You are all awesome, and your reviews totally kept me going. Thank you all so much.

And now, as they say, on with the show...

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

_When you look into my eyes_

_And you see the crazy gypsy in my soul_

_It always comes as a surprise_

_W__hen I feel my withered roots begin to grow_

_Well I never had a place that I could call my very own_

_That's all right, my love, 'cause you're my home_

-Billy Joel, You're My Home

"Marshall!"

Marshall heard the familiar voice a split-second before a pillow slammed into his head. He groaned.

Mary laughed from the door where she stood. She was dressed in pajama bottoms and a tank top, her feet were bare and her hair was messy. "Get your ass out of the bed, Doofus."

Marshall groaned again and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow she had thrown at him. It smelled like her, and that made him smile.

Nearly two months ago, Marshall's doctor had run another CAT scan shortly after he had felt Mary's leg against his, and to everyone's relief, Reilly had said that Marshall would walk again. But he would need help at first, and when he was finally ready to go home, Reilly had refused to discharge him until he knew that Marshall wouldn't be alone. Marshall's family had been present at the time, and there was an air of discomfort as Mary firmly announced that Marshall would be staying with her until he could live on his own. Reilly could tell that it had been a topic of heated discussion, but all that mattered to him was that his patient would receive adequate help. After the announcement, Marshall's nurses wasted no time in getting him up and about. But they quickly learned not to do so without Mary present. The first (and only) time that mistake was made, Mary had excused herself for a cup of coffee. She had returned in time to see a nurse walking Marshall down the hall. It was only his second time out of bed, and even from a distance, Mary could see that the activity was too much. She had broken into a run toward him, just in time to catch him as his knees buckled and he pitched forward. Once he was safely back in his bed, Mary had grabbed the nurse and none too gently dragged her out of the room, where she proceeded to deliver a verbal lashing that left the nurse's ears smarting. After that, that particular nurse stayed away as much as possible, and all of the nursing staff waited until Mary was present before they encouraged Marshall to get out of his bed.

Shortly after Mary's declaration that Marshall would be going home with her, she had called her mother and sister and gently told them that they had to leave. To her surprise, Brandi told her that she had already found a place and had been packing, and that she would be gone before Mary brought Marshall home. Jinx had put up more of a fight, crying theatrically and blaming Mary for everything that was wrong with her life, as she tended to do. Mary had simply told her to leave, then hung up the phone and cried for a few minutes. Once she was pulled together, she went back to Marshall.

It was almost three additional weeks before Marshall was officially discharged from the hospital. There was concern that a media frenzy would be waiting, because everyone wanted to interview the hero marshal. But Stan, thoughtful and ahead as always, had let it leak that Marshall wouldn't be released for a full three days after his actual release date. Mary was concerned, but when she wheeled Marshall out of the hospital, there wasn't a reporter to be seen. She was relieved as she pushed Marshall to her car and helped him into the passenger's seat. As they drove out of the hospital parking lot, Mary let out a breath she hadn't realized that she was holding.

Marshall was finally going home.

Mary sauntered over to the bed and sat down beside him. "Get your ass up," she repeated, grinning.

He groaned.

Today was his first day back at work. Mary had reluctantly returned to work part-time shortly after she brought him home, at Stan's insistence. At first, she had struggled with it. A lot. To her surprise, it was Brandi who stepped up and saved the day. Since she had picked an apartment close to Mary's home, she was willing and able to drive over to Mary's and check on Marshall while Mary was at work. Mary was hesitant for the first couple of days, even going as far as to returning home without calling first. And every time, she had found Marshall comfortable and relaxed, and Brandi looking after him, just as she had promised. Brandi was finally growing up, making her big sister incredibly proud of her. She even took Marshall to his therapy appointments when Mary just couldn't get away from work in time.

She nudged him. "Come on, lazy. You have a ton of paperwork waiting for you at the office."

He peered out from under the pillow. "I haven't been at work in two months. How do I have any paperwork?"

Her smile widened. "Your paperwork, my paperwork…what's the difference?"

"The difference is that your paperwork is your paperwork!"

Suddenly Mary snatched the pillow off of his head and tossed it aside. "Semantics. Now get out of this bed before I shove you out of it."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "I'd like to see you try."

A split second later, he let out a surprised oof as she shoved him onto his back. She grinned at him predatorily. "You were saying?"

"I'm up, I'm up."

"Good." Mary stood up and sashayed over to the bedroom door, thoroughly amused.

With her back to him, Marshall made a face at her.

"I can see that!"

* * *

After arriving at the office almost two hours later, Stan tried to look nonchalant as he watched Delia read through a folder. It was almost nine a.m., and Mary would be arriving with Marshall any minute now. He shifted from foot to foot as he thought about the previous weeks and spells of anxiety that they had produced for him.

Marshall had been cleared a week ago to return to work, even though Stan thought it might still be a bit too soon. Marshall had very nearly lost the ability to walk, but now it seemed that he was making a full recovery. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was really looking forward to having Mary back full-time, as well. The time between Marshall's release from the hospital and his clearance to return to work had put a real strain on Mary, because Stan needed her at the office and she wanted to stay with Marshall. If it had been up to Stan, he would have let her stay at home with Marshall until he was ready to come back to the office. Truth was, Mary was hard enough to be around without Marshall there. Without him, she was a nightmare. And Stan couldn't wait until his best team was back together again.

Delia looked at Stan curiously. "They'll be here, Stan," she said confidently, reassuringly.

"I know. I just…"

His voice trailed off as he watched Mary and Marshall walk slowly but surely toward him. A ridiculous grin appeared on his face as he patiently waited for them. Marshall was walking with a slight limp, the only obvious tell of his traumatic time. Mary walked alongside him, more focused on him than she was actually getting back to their desks. The closer they came, the bigger Stan's smile became.

When Mary finally noticed that Stan was staring at them, she rolled her eyes. "Yes, he's here. I told you I'd get him here safely."

"I'm sure he had reason to doubt, considering the reliability of that pile of rust you call a car," Marshall shot back.

"Hey!"

Stan laughed and shook his head. "Both of you, knock it off. We have work to do."

Marshall eased over to his desk and sat down with a muted groan. His body was still healing, but he was finally back at work, and he was thrilled.

Mary squeezed his shoulder lightly before sitting at her own desk, where a pile of paperwork was waiting on her. She made herself comfortable, then looked over at Marshall. He was already lost in an open file in front of him. His eyes were focused, his jaw moved slightly, and Mary had to smile.

She had never seen a more welcome sight.

The End.

**A/N: Like they say, all good things come to an end. But without giving too much away, I have started a new story (not a sequel for this) that I think everyone will enjoy. It's called Release, and I should be posting the first chapter of it in the next few days. Again, I really hope everyone enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Thank you for reading! Oh, and feel free to review or pm me with suggestions for a sequel...**


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